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Before the Dawn 



Before the Dawn 



A BOOK OF 



Poems, Songs, and 
Sonnets 



By JOSEPH LEISER 




The Peter Paul Book Company- 
Buffalo, New York 

MDCCCXCVIII 



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JUNIO 



2nd cor 

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Copyright, 1898 

by 

Joseph Leiser 



Printed and bound by The 
Peter Paul Book Company, 
in Buffalo, New York. 



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Preface 

A volume of poems needs no preface. The poems 
are their own reason and apology. An author may- 
be introduced by friends, but he introduces himself 
best by his own products. 

The poems of this volume are selections from my 
literary efforts of the last year in college and the 
first year in a professional career. They are now 
offered to a larger circle of readers. 

In naming the volume "Before the Dawn," I 
have tried to convey by the title the same impression 
my poems reveal. We are living in a transitoryage — 
a period of transition. It is an era of expectancy, 
and we are only sleeping in the grey mist of a 
promised morn. The words of my poems may be 
nothing, the drift and latency of them everything. 

By motives of gratitude I am impelled to express 
here my thanks to Mrs. Kent Dunlap Hagler for 
her assistance and suggestions, under most trying 
circumstances, in reading and correcting proofs. 

Springfield, 111., April 13, 1898. 



Contents 

Midnight on the Campus, i 

The Lookout, 5 

The Prospect, 7 

Easter Greeting, 9 

Two Lovers, 11 

Nature's Tutor, 17 

At Christmastide, 19 

The Day of Atonement, 22 

ImmortaHty of Matter, 38 

The Light Beyond, 40 

The Prophet, 43 

The Travelers, 59 

Burial in a Lonely Churchyard, .... 62 

A Psalm for Toilers, 69 

Meditations at Twilight, 72 

Call of a Poet, 78 

Songs of Poets, 80 

Songs of the Future, -84 

An Incident at the Fair, 90 

The School Bell, 93 

Waiting, 95 

ix 



X Contents 

Faith, 97 

October, 98 

The Flight of Happiness, 99 

A Knight of the New World, loi 

Halloween, 105 

Rights of Man, 106 

I Hear the Hymn of Twilight, 107 

Isolation, 108 

The Sowers, 109 

Man and the Universe, no 

A Fragment, no 

Songs 

The Fisher, 113 

Come, Little Birdie, 115 

Farewell Song at Summer Brook, . . . .116 

Song of Spring, 117 

Song of Autumn, 118 

Song of Winter, 119 

Song of " Sangersehen," 119 

Good Night Song, 120 

Coach Song, 121 

Where One Is, There Two Will Be, . . . . 123 

The Old Mill, 125 

The Night Wind, 127 

Love Song, 128 



Contents xi 

Sonnets 

Sonnets of Despair, 131 

Resignation, 137 

Dr. E. G. Hirsch's Forty-seventh Birthday, . . 138 

On Reading a Book of Sonnets, .... 139 

Before New Year 140 

Authorship, 141 

When Fancy Decays, 142 

Obedience, 143 

Winter, 144 

Life's Vintage, 145 



Before the Dawn 



Before the Dawn 



Midnight on the Campus 

How calm the darkness lies 
Upon our campus green, 
Like some perpetual sleep 
Whose waking is in dreams. 

On such deep silence feeds 
The soul, that freer it 
May turn to that first dawn, 
When, in vast uncreated space, 
From drifts of nebulae. 
Our globe was fashioned. 

We are of that same silence made 
As girts our sphere and girdles 
The planets in their starry realms. 
Thus silence is the womb 
From which all things have origin, 
The primal element of which 
Both man and beast are offspring, 
The world's first syllable and speech. 



Before the Dawn 

And thus in silence does 
The soul resolve itself 
To its first form, 
That better it may meet 
The elemental source 
That founds our being. 

Such calm unfolds the soul, 
And lifts its earthly vestment 
Where, pure and undefiled, 
It links itself with all 
That moves and makes our being. 
In substance like, and bound 
To all by universal links. 

Ah ! silence quickens awe ; 
And man, affrighted by the spell, 
Would hide himself in fear 
From its appalling presence : 
There is no silence to the soul 
That feels the edges of his life 
Uniting with creation's dawn, 
That binds the tiny self 
To that great life which rounds 
Our worlds and worlds to be, 
And makes from all but one — 
God, soul, man, dust, but one. 



Midnight on the Campus 

We grow not from, but out of, all, 
And all we are is in the whole. 
We never add but what is there ; 
And all enfolds the one, 
As one surrounds the whole. 
By that small lisp of speech 
We swelled the fuller sound ; 
By this great gaze in space, 
And even that vast tread toward God, 
Are all retraced by that same course, 
We rose and moved beyond, 
By that same step return 
From whence we came. 

So silence forms a part 
Of this great world and life ; 
The stillness of this night, 
A smaller calm of that 
Great silence which is death. 
As life is a beginning, so is death. 
Both life and death are one, 
And each but different sides 
Of one great spirit form. 

If sadness be the evening, 

And joy the morn, — 
If autumn's glow is grieving 

At winter born, — 



Before the Dawn 

If sadness, joy, 

And grief, and tears 
Are mine alike 

In varying years, — 
Then are we kindred souls ; 
And life, bestowed on me, 
Will death then make me nought ? 
Our being all undone. 
And changed to what ? 
We are not lost in life or death ; 
Nought alienates the soul of man. 
Not even time or space. 
We are a part of all that is ; 
In life is death, in death is life : 
So are we soul of every soul, 
And part of every self 



The Lookout 



The Lookout 

We see where never was seen, 
And hear when no voice calls ; 

We know whatever was given, 
At the feet of our searching falls. 

There are visions higher than vision, 
And mind outstretching mind ; 

We are the links of a region 
That higher regions bind. 

With us is but the making, 

To undo what is done ; 
For others comes the taking, 

Perfecting what's begun. 

The eye is not blind with seeing ; 

Above the peak and hill, 
Another eye is beaming, 

A heart with a deeper thrill. 

We stand on a peak, and, glancing 
At shifts of wind and cloud. 

Behold the stars enhancing 

The folds of midnight's shroud. 



Before the Dawn 

On hilltops, true, we stand, — 
'Tis well a height we reach ; 

There we behold another land, 
And hear another speech. 

Life is but in the making ; 

There's a newer life to gain ; 
And man, from sleep awaking, 

Shall see his darkness wane. 

And glory is passing to glory. 
And riches to treasures of gold ; 

The scroll of earth is a story 
Each age has newly retold. 

The things that are we are praising. 
Give honor to honors won ; 

The things that are we are raising 
To the things that will be done ! 



The Prospect 



The Prospect 

Let past be past, and days that are done 

Go rest in their unhewn grave ; 
The days to come have more to be won 

Than cycles of ages can save. 

What's past is past ; our sob and our tear 

Will never unravel the deed ; 
Though wait we in fear for many a year, 

And practice our virtue and creed. 

We each of us wrought whatever we thought, 

And tallied whatever we willed ; 
And now we forget, and some may regret 

They knew what would be fulfilled. 

O 'tis not our fate, not even our state, 
That stamps us the badges we wear ; 

'Tis only with us, and thanks it is thus. 
That drives us to do and to dare. 

O we mortals are our own kindly star ; 

We alone guide the life that we hold ; 
And alone on our lathe, in joy and in wrath, 

Our life carves its pattern and mold. 



Before the Dawn 

O then shall I sigh for what has gone by 

And never comes back to me ? 
O let me grow strong, as days march along, 

And hope for what I may be ! 

With years ahead, stay weeping instead 

At a chance mishap and a slip ! 
O rather be jarred, your proud face marred. 

Than wilt, or loose your strong grip ! 

You're always a man ; whatever you can. 

To do and to try is your right ! 
Suppose you go wrong, and a thousand strong 

Are ready to jeer and to spite. 

Your sorrow yearns for the funeral urns 

To bury the woe of your lot, 
O see what's afore, and what is no more 

Will soon, too soon, be forgot. 

The past is done ; its praises are sung ; 

The days to come we will know : 
The days that are gone will cheer with no song ; 

The future alone is aglow ! 



Easter Greeting 9 



Easter Greeting 

O CHANT the song triumphant ! 

Let vaster music sound ! 
A worid once dark and desolate 

Has God in wiser reason found. 

A world is born anew today ; 

Man need no longer curse his birth. 
Great joy is crowning all mankind, 

And beauty dwells in good of earth. 

The toil of ages was not vain ; 

The sod our fathers' tears bedewed 
Has freshened earth to bear the fruits 

Of hope restored and life renewed. 

O chant the song triumphant, 

And greet the world with wider love ! 

Our life, that's spanned from dust to star, 
The fear of death can never move. 

We find our God in rock and tree. 
In Sirius of unmarked space ; 

In beast and man, in all that is, 
Divinity on earth we trace ! 



lo Before the Dawn 

O greet the world ! There is no end 
To life and man, through life and death 

The softest whisper is a sound, 
And spirit is a hving breath. 

A world is rising from the tomb 

Of doubt, and fear, and discontent ; 

And hope is winging towards the sky, 
With love the pledge of sacrament. 

And every man is more the man 
In all the reckoning of worlds ; 

For all creation is his kin. 

And in the void of space he whirls. 

O chant the song triumphant ! 

A world is born anew today ; 
A vaster manhood greets the dawn ; 

A tottering age is rolled away. 



Two Lovers ii 



Two Lovers 

We strolled beneath the autumn moon, 
Full orbed and rounded as a globe, 
Embosomed on the breast of night. 
The sky, like some unfolded scroll. 
Exposed her jeweled and starry script, 
That man, born of the latest hour. 
Could read alike with those who first 
Made fancy spell their wandering thoughts. 

Profane it was to beckon speech, 
Or, speaking, only whispers pass. 
Unfathomed silence breeds a spell 
Of silence on the lips of men. 
With childish gaze we looked aloft, 
And never tried to view again 
A scene the generations have beheld 
With each and single wonderment. 

Suffused with deeper thoughts unquenched, 
My musing sought my lips in speech. 
' ' Where are your thoughts tonight, my friend, 
When heaven, rich in splendor, fills 
The breast with luscious gratitude ? 



12 Before the Dawn 

Can petty thought possess the mind, 

Or lightness reign, deride the might 

Of him who called the heavens forth 

And gave the stars their watchman's post? 

To be majestic we must first 

Behold some majesty afar. 

There, yonder, we, my friend, may read 

The poem man first yearned to con. 

They are not only stars that shine. 

Who star ward would his soul project. 

Oh ! heaven strews her fields by law, 

But law does not our gaze control : 

A wonder fills our open eyes. 

And faith grows from this wonderment. ' ' 

* ' When man by gazing cannot see, 
His heart will fill the troubled gap. 
Does the vastness beckon fancy, 
Loose her fleshy moorings, roam 
Over infinite expanses, coursing 
Where the light and darkness dwell, 
Where the heat and cold are cradled. 
And the seasons are prepared ? 
Though the spell may hush our murmurs, 
Still the flood of thoughts must flow. 
Who would chain the driving breakers, 
Close the font of springtide's rain, 



Two Lovers 13 

Blanket heaven when the snowflakes 
Scatter crystals on the air, 
Bring the autumn leaves in summer, 
Make the flowers of May time halt, 
Turn the mountains into hillocks 
And the thunder's roar to peace? 
Man may nature curve and straighten ; 
Never can he curb the mind ! 
Though the prison bars may hush it, 
Seal the lips by silent chains. 
Then the dungeon tower will symbol 
Liberty for all mankind ! ' ' 

* ' Tell me where your thoughts are roaming, 
Though the evening holds her peace ; 
When the mind escapes her musings, 
Then the lips their calm release." 

* ' O I would my thoughts were winged. 
And the flight of birds possessed ! 
To my love my thoughts would hasten. 
To my sweetheart speed and fly. 
Such a night as this we wandered. 
Taking yon calm moon our guide, 
Mused as thus we two are musing, 
Only love became our theme. 
So we strolled, as lovers, aimless, 
Guide their steps without a course ; 



14 Before the Dawn 

And the love within us bosomed 
Freed its hold and then made way. 
Then I found no love is single, 
Dwelling lonely in the heart ; 
Love is twain, in each fulfilling 
What in each makes up the self" 

Thereupon a sadness seized me ; 
Never felt I lone before, — 
Never, till my friend had whispered, 
' ' Love can never dwell alone. ' ' 
Then I looked aloft for comfort, 
Till my breast was filled with trust. 
And my heart suffused with deeper. 
Vaster thoughts than e'er before. 
And I felt within me coursing 
Both his love and then her own ; 
And in fulness richly treasured 
With the love his heart declared, 
As in ages, cycles, eons, 
Men pronounced their lovers' wooing, 
Plead in language this same yearning, 
One same speech, the mother tongue, 
Never new or strange or erring, 
Love the common speech of man, 
Understood, wherever mortals 
Have a heart to know that love. 



Two Lovers 15 

Then by mighty sweep my vision 
Lifted me from earth and man 
To the universal heart : 
Not a lone and single being, 
But a soul of all the living, 
Only I the speaking soul, 
Placed within a boundless space. 
And my ears then heard the echoes 
Of each lover to his bride, 
As the courtier, king, and ruler 
Lulled majestic strains of love. 
Heard the harsher, rougher murmurs 
Of the peasant's bungling tones ; 
Even rose the limping accents 
Of the savage brawling grunts. 

Each one whispered in his language 
But the same sweet bridal chant, 
Much the sweeter, being human, 
Ebbing from the heart of man. 
And a shudder fell upon me, 
In my fright I feign would cry : 
' ' God, O soul of all the living, 
Am I this atomic speck, 
Floating in this vast creation, 
Only lisping what the pilgrims 
Of all times and ages spoke ! 



1 6 Before the Dawn 

Even love that would engulf me, 
But the love within man's bosom. 
On this earth and human temple 
Not a single place or confine, 
Hidden from the range of man ! ' ' 

But the thought was more than thinking, 
By her arts could well control. 
We are fated to live mortal — 
Man can never flee his manhood — 
Life is only firmer binding. 
What our birth begins to thread. 

So the vision gave me comfort, 
Though I called no love by name. 
In my heart, and soul, and being, 
Love abode to claim the praise. 
And I trusted when my journey 
Wound the troubled ways of life. 
One would claim me and possess me, 
Be, as I am man, my wife. 

And my arm crept near his stronger, 
Nestled closer at his side ; 
" Friend, beneath this autumn moonlight, 
We, two lovers, calmly glide." 



Nature's Tutor 17 



Nature's Tutor 

Thou shalt be my tutor, child ; 

Fresh from Heaven's hand art thou 
What vast dreams there yonder dwell, 

Seem to linger on thy brow. 

Sweeter come the messages 
From ethereal realms of God 

To thy unconfining ears 

Than to us who have earth trod. 

Nearer art thou to our God, 
Learned in his own sacred art ; 

Lessons bringest thou to earth ; 
Newest truths dost thou impart. 

We do gather at thy feet : 

Teach us more than books reveal ; 
Teach us, sunk in laws of men. 

How the soul of man should feel. 

Thou art every man in germ, 
Budding flower of every art ; 

Poet, painter, singer, teacher, 
Of all souls thou art a part. 



1 8 Before the Dawn 

Thou art but thyself no more, 
No disguises of a soul ; 

What the forms of man devise 
Has not passed to thy control. 

Teach us, child, thy simple grace, 
That unpretending, natural bow ; 

Then, far more than books or skill, 
God's own lesson teachest thou. 



At Christmastide 19 



At Christmastide 

O LET me hear at Christmastide 
The joyous chant of pealing bells, 

As outward sounding, far and wide. 
The rapture of their music swells. 

And I will hear the message sung 
Across the borders of the night, 

And feel the joy of old and young, 
Uplifted by their sweet delight. 

I, too, will hear the sainted choir 
Upon the wintry skies proclaim, 
"Though earth be sad, and living dire, 

The heavenly host still praise his name. ' ' 

The echoes on the wind will ride, 

Between the banks of storm and snow ; 

And hastening on at Christmastide 
To cheer the sons of men below ; 

And caroling, as birds at dawn. 
To bring the pining days a cheer ; 

For man must turn his ills to song. 
Lest he die with the dying year. 



20 Before the Dawn 

And I will hear at Christmastide 
But one grand song for every man ; 

And trust that as the echoes glide 
The circuit of the world they'll span. 

That none there be who hear no sound, 
And none will glance across the sky, 

And see the dome in darkness bound, 
And catch the wailing of their sigh. 

But all will know who hear the ring, 

That peace is spread from heaven to earth ; 

To all his children does it bring 
The tidings of a newer birth : 

That man unlearn the old and false, 
And trust his life upon the new ; 

And bury with the dead his faults, 
To live in deeper faith the true. 

And I will hear at Christmastide, 

The curse of man is banned for death ; 

The greed for gold, the sin of pride, 
Is languishing for fresher breath. 

And I hear, too, within that chant. 
The trials of man have fled the land ; 

The woe of need, the cry of want. 
Are silenced by a fuller hand. 



At Christmastide 21 

Oh, never may there be an end 
To what is anchored in the soul ! 

Though night of heart with darkness blend, 
Our life is in our own control. 

O ring out, bells, at Christmastide 

In fuller tones and vaster plan ; 
O ring that in all times abide 

The Christ that is in every man ! 



2 2 Before the Dawn 



The Day of Atonement 

Soft, oh soft, from yonder temple 
Creep the echoes low and mournful. 
Thin and feeble stray the shadows 
Kindled by the candles' glow. 
O'er the muffled stir and murmur 
Of the faithful sons and daughters 
Gathered in the house of worship 
On the great and holy evening, 
Greatest eve of all the evenings 
Israel welcomes with a prayer. 

Hither have they flocked and banded, 
Robed their frames in death's pale vestment, 
Consecrated soul and body 
For the great and trying day. 
First forgiven by their neighbors 
For whatever ill or insult — 
First by man absolved and pardoned 
Ere the pardon falls from God. 
Bent in prayerful meditation, 
Searching for their sins, transgressions ; 
Tearing from their mortal bosoms 
All of earth's defilements, stains; 



The Day of Atonement 23 

Murmuring as the countless branches 
Of a forest hum their wail, 
Nodding, tossing, bowing, pleading; 
Muttering in heart-cloyed accents 
Prayers of heroes, priests, and martyrs ; 
Lisping in an ancient language 
Hymns of poets, kings, and sages ; 
Yearning only for redemption 
From their human, erring action ; 
Longing for the holy vision. 
At the throne of God to stand. 
Where the book of life is opened, 
Writ with all their earthly deeds, 
And the Judge of Life inspecting 
All the acts of sinful man ; 
Trembling with a dire emotion. 
How the scales of fate will balance, 
What allotment they are destined. 
What the circling year will bring, 
When the wheel of life, revolving. 
Sends the sparks of life or death. 

Lo ! above the mournful chanting, 
Rise the fuller sounded wailings 
Of the soul's most solemn anthem. 
Hark! the strains of deep Kol Nidra — 
Saddest music ever mortal 
Taught his lips to hymn or sound ! 



24 Before the Dawn 

Not the heart of one lone mortal 
Told his anguish in that strain ; 
All the sorrow, pain, and struggles 
Of a people in despair, 
Gathered from the vale of weeping, 
Through the ages of distress. 
'Tis a mighty cry of beings 
Held in bondage and affliction ; 
All the wailing and lamenting 
Of a homeless people, roaming 
O'er the plains and scattered hamlets 
Of a world without a refuge. 
All the sorrows, trials, bereavements - 
Loss of country, home, and people, - 
In one mighty strain uniting. 
Chant for every age its \vail ; 
Make the suffering years reecho 
With the wounds and pains of yore ; 
Give a voice to every martyr 
Ever hushed to death by pain, 
Every smothered shriek of daughter 
Burned upon the fagot's bier ; 
Bring the wander-years and exile, 
Persecution's harsh assailment, 
Ghetto misery and hounding, 
To the ears of men today ; 
Link the dark and dreary ages 



The Day of Atonement 25 

With the brighter future's glow; 
Weave the past and hopeful present ; 
Bind the living with the sleeping, 
Dust unto the dust confessing, 
Even with the dead uniting, 
When the soul would join with God. 

Softly rise the chanting voices, 
As the anguish gains in feeling, 
As their sorrow leaps restraining, 
Bursts in floods of sobs and woe. 
Cries its mighty pleas for mercy, 
Begs forgiveness from their Father, 
Promises more faithful living. 
Holiness and consecration. 
Patience to endure the suffering 
Undeserving made their lot. 
Then the echoes fail in silence, 
As a saint uplifts his eyes 
For a glimpse of a fulfillment 
Of a promise pledged his soul, • 
With expectant eyes awaiting 
Tokens of his soul's bequest, 
Hushes e'en his bosom's heaving 
Lest his inner voice be lost. 
Then upon the heart is strewn 
Holier thoughts of man and God ; 



26 Before the Dawn 

And the silence sends the message 
To the holy throne of God. 

Slowly creep the muffled murmurs. 
As the leaves and flowers, conspiring, 
Steal a breeze from summer's chamber, 
Hum and mumble as they stroke it, 
Smoothe, caress, and gently coy it, 
So this murmur spreads the voices 
Of the praying synagogue, 
As each lip repeats the sinning 
Of his selfish, godless living, 
By each mutter low recounting 
Every single sin and crime — 
How he falsified his neighbor. 
Made a stumbling-block for blindness, 
Cursed the deaf, unstaid the cripple. 
Played his son and daughter wrong, 
Tattled of his wife's behavior. 
Made his father's age a load, 
Spoke belittling of his mother. 
Took advantage of the stupid, 
Made the hungry buy their bread, 
Turned the needy from his threshold, 
Clothed the naked with his bareness, 
Shut the stranger from his fold. 
Never begged forgiveness, pardon, 



The Day of Atonement 27 

For a wrong aimed at a foe, 
Never weighed the love or mercy 
Of the Father of the world. 
Low the lips are now repenting ; 
Every mutter is a sob 
Ebbing from the font of being ; 
Conscience speaks in lowest accents, 
Lest the voice cry out to men. 

Who has ever heard Kol Nidra 
Gushing from the breast of man, 
Rising, falling, as the ocean 
Lifts the waves in joy or fear. 
From Time's ocean has it risen ; 
Every age has lent a murmur, 
Every cycle built a wail ; 
Every sorrow ever dwelling 
In the tortured heart of man. 
Tears and sighs together swelling, 
Answer for the pangs of ages. 
'Tis the voice of coundess pilgrims, 
Sons of Jacob, with a cry. 
Moaning, sighing, grieving, wailing. 
Answering in thousand voices 
Fate and destiny of man. 
Winning soul a consolation 
For their sad allotment's creed ; 



2 8 Before the Dawn 

Wander-song of homeless traveler, 

Outcast from the ranks of men ; 

Echoes from the throes of mortals, 

Questioning the ways of God ; 

Song hummed by the lonely desert, 

Prompted by the heart of night, 

Lisped across the sandy borders 

By the desert's trailing wind ; 

Hymn of midnight and the silence, 

Song the friendless stars intone, 

Sung whene'er the tempest hurtles. 

Bruits destruction to the world ; 

Song of every song of sorrow, 

Wail for every grief and woe, 

World affliction, world lamenting ; 

Sorrow of the lonely desert ; 

Sadness of a homeless people ; 

Anguish of a chided mortal. 

Hounded, tracked, oppressed, and beaten. 

Made the scourge of God on earth ; 

Outcry of a sinful bosom 

Warring with his guilt and wrong. 

'Tis a saintly aspiration 

Of a holy soul in prayer ; 

'Tis the music hummed by mercy, 

When the heart is touched by love. 

'Tis the welding of all mercy. 



The Day of Atonement 29 

Love, forgiveness, in a union, 
Sweeping o'er the span of ages, 
Flooding earth with one majestic, 
Universal hymn of woe, 
As if God had willed his children 
Weep in but one human strain. 

Who can hear this strange Kol Nidra 
Without dropping in the spell ? 
Lift the vestige of the present. 
Link the momentary fleeting 
Of the evening with the past ; 
Dwell a spirit in the ages, 
Living in the heart of time : 
Lose the sense of outer worlds, 
Soul alone in endless time. 
Breathing but the breath of ages. 
Yesterday with all time one. 
One with all the lapsing ages, 
One with all the exiled years, — 
Crying when this blank creation 
Rose from denser mystery, 
Speaking in the living present ; 
Never dead, unborn, or living. 
Only being in all time. 
Spirit gendered from creation. 
Kindled by a spark of God, 



30 Before the Dawn 

Being as the Father, spirit, 

Knowing naught of time or space, 

Living part of that creation 

Woven from the threads of life ; 

FeeHng when the tide of being 

Floats into the sea of death, 

Where the streams of both are cradled. 

Ere they pass the banks of time, 

Where both life and death are nurselings, 

Fostered by one kindly dame. 

Life and death are lonely orphans 

From the spirit realm of God, 

With the sons of God abiding 

In their earthly pilgrimage. 

This the eve of that long day 
Of atonement and redemption — 
Day that only Judah knows, — 
When the faithful sons unravel 
All the threads of thought and deed : 
How the acts of men are graven 
On the mystic scroll of life ; 
And the glowing page reciting 
All the deeds he has ordained. 
Where he acted cruel or kindly, 
Where his hand was moved to wrong, 
Where with mercy bent his frame, — 



The Day of Atonement 31 

All his virtues, crimes, and sinning 
Reads he on the open page. 
Only knowing when we're erring 
Can we mend the guilty way. 
Man who sins without the knowledge 
Is the harmless little babe ; 
Who designedly, and knowing. 
Makes the outrage 'gainst his God. 
Better 'tis to know the error, 
Than a thought-reft, aimless child ; 
Better to confess the error 
Than conceal the guilty deed. 
Pure the soul with God uniting, 
Holy as the Father is 
One with him in life descending, 
One throughout eternity. 

Then it is that mortal spirit 
Winds the silvery way toward God, 
Where the elemental sources 
Of his spirit have abode. 
Man descends from heaven's kingdom, 
Not a banished son of God, 
But his heir and chosen servant. 
To effect on earth his plan. 
Never sin-bestained or burdened 
Came he to his chosen home — 



32 Before the Dawn 

Man, a heavenly son the Father 
Sent on earth to be a god, 
Serving here as heaven's agent, 
As the Father rules above, 
Spirit of his master spirit, 
Throbbing with his greater throb. 
Loving as the great Creator 
Of that love unites his sons. 

Lo, in secret meditation, 
When we loose our earthly vesture 
And the spirit only whispers, 
Man beholds the near relation 
Of himself to him above ; 
For the mercy in his bosom 
Undefiled descends from him. 
And the love that makes us brethren 
Dwells in greater fulness there. 
What our spirits will and purpose. 
So the greater Spirit sways. 
Thus the god within is dwelling ; 
Man is crowned a smaller god. 
What is in his bosom holy, 
What is consecrated, pure. 
Must be undefiled and stainless 
So the god within may live. 
Only sinlessness unites us, 



The Day of Atonement 33 

And our guilt divides the way. 
He who purifies his Hving, 
Bands with all the sons of God ; 
Every man becomes his brother, 
Trusted helper for the good. 
Who defiles his soul and being, 
Is eschewed by every one. 
Man must guard the paths of action ! 
Only fear of God is man's. 
Every quality that mortal 
Manifests throughout his life — 
Love or justice, hope or mercy. 
Righteousness and heroism,— 
All these are the dower of God. 
Fear of him, the pride of manhood, 
Self-respect and conscious living, 
Knowledge of our holy kinship 
This alone must man create, 
Drawing from the holy treasure 
Elements to form the god. 
Fearing him is never terror. 
Only knowledge of our ways ; 
Better, safer, surer guarding. 
Lest his gifts decay in rust. 
For the sons alike with Father 
Are creators in the world. 
By their common kinship striving 



34 Before the Dawn 

For the blessed ends of man. 
He creates the gifts to grant them ; 
So must man prepare himself 
To accept the holy boon. 

Thus the soul of man respondeth 
As it wanders back to God; 
Learns how all his life and action 
Is a trace of the sublime ; 
How the mind of man unravels 
All the netted threads of thought, 
And, unloosened, all the fibers 
End in but a common band, 
Held in safest trust by him. 
Lest his sons should loose their hold. 
Myriads of threads are woven 
For the human families. 
But no strand or fiber severs 
From the mighty common cord. 
Even is the deepest thinking, 
Furthest pushing into mind, 
All the varied acts of knowing — 
Poetry and painting, carving. 
Mathematics, iron trestle. 
Physics' sportive game with forces, 
All the children of the Muses — 
Science, history, and commerce, — 



The Day of Atonement 35 

Are all threads of that same cord, 
Binding all mankind together. 
So the mind by slow untwining, 
Reaches for the primal fiber, 
Wanders on the common highway 
To the universal mind, 
Where the common thread is fostered 
In the mind that wove them all. 

Then the heart of man grows lonely, 
Yearns for common fellowship 
With the mind that moves and wills. 
Where the mind of mortal sojourns 
Must the heart companion go. 
Both twinborn gifts of God. 
So the heart of man, traversing 
Inward to the seat of soul. 
Picks the varied threads of feeling. 
Carries these again to God. 
And the Father in his kindness 
Brings the threads of all his children, 
And, behold ! no thread is stranger, 
None unlike the common strands ; 
Love and mercy and forgiveness. 
These are spun alike in all. 
With the Father love embraces 
All the borders of the world ; 



2,6 Before the Dawn 

For his sons the threads are woven, 
Binding all the sons of man. 

Softer now the twilight settles : 
Through the trying day the faithful 
Prayed in sad and sobbing accents, 
Meditated on his actions, 
Searched the secrets of his bosom, 
Brought again his soul to God, 
That he might be purified, 
Pardoned of his false behavior, 
Tainting all the ways of life. 
And refreshed the soul returns, 
Enters at the gates ajar. 
And the eveningtide approaching. 
Swing the gates of day apart. 
So the golden light of heaven 
Floods with autumn glow the earth, 
And the radiance of the heavens 
Limns the glory of the world. 
Man is cleansed from earth's defilements; 
Pure and holy, greets the hour 
When the gates of twilight sunder. 
And the day departs for rest. 
Peace has crowned his meditation, 
Prayer uplifted him who fell ; 
For the world and all its beings 



The Day of Atonement 37 

Is the twilight peace bestowed. 
With the sons of man united, 
One in common brotherhood, 
Mind and heart of all his children 
One throughout the universe. 
Even as his lips are praising 
Good will to the human race, 
So the gates of heaven open, 
And the day of trial is done. 

Open now the gates of heaven. 
When the gates of day are closed ; 
Let thy children enter holy 
To the golden throne of love. 
Open for us wide the portals 
At the hour the gates are closed ! 
We have sought thy throne of mercy, 
And are pardoned for our sins ; 
We have welcomed all our brothers, 
With the light of kindly heaven, 
Love for all mankind bestowing, 
Ere the twilight fades in night. 
Open for us wide the portals. 
As the gates of day are closing ; 
Let us enter in thy kingdom, 
Purified from every sin. 
Open now the gates of glory. 
For the day has sunk to rest ! 



38 Before the Dawn 



Immortality of Matter 

In faith they do not wholly die, Lord, 

Who praise thy name ; 
Though stopped their mouth with dust, nor heard 

Their earthly fame, 
They have not died, that saint or priest 

Who lived to serve ; 
By men their life is mentioned least, 

Their lives subserve. 

More like the firefly's flashing light 

Would be that life 
Whose deeds grew small through fear the flight 

From earth and strife, 
Transported to the markless sight of death : 

The act be good, 
Thyself and action gains a fuller breath. 

It first withstood. 

Before the smooth-rolled sea we stood. 

And tossed this stone ; 
A tiny circling ripple breaks on land, 

And some alone 



Immortality of Matter 39 

Float out to greet an unknown shore : 

Their course will end 
When heaven and earth are found no more, 

In masses blend. 

So man may act by laws whose birth 

Was in a star, 
And strive for ends beyond this earth 

In realms afar. 
We know not where our actions end : 

Act thou thy part, 
For God alone can guide the trend 

Of our small art. 



40 Before the Dawn 



The Light Beyond 

Were my life not vacant darkness, 

But the light of dawning day, 
By the sunbeam's glance to follow, 

Firm, secured to wend my way ; 
Not a groping in thick darkness, 

Pausing at each questioned tread, 
Doubting at the right and left hand, 

Moving with no goal ahead ! 

But the infant trusts no glances 

At the broad and friendly sun, 
Seals the fresh and untried eyelids 

Till a firmer glance is won, 
Then expands its wondrous gazing 

To embrace the heaven' s sweep - 
Not a sparkle in that vastness 

Does without its gazing keep. 

Oh, perhaps it is my childhood 
Sees but dim the misty way : 

Comfort rests upon the trusting. 
Life creates its night and day. 



The Light Beyond 41 

I may still dwell in the dawning, 
In the morn, ere mounts the sun 

On the golden hills of heaven 
To begin the charger's run. 

Life does not on hewn pathways 

Run its swift and steady course ; 
Each a wilderness approaches 

When his life begins, perforce. 
Life has but the tools made ready, 

Man must hew his lonely way : 
He has reared a greater manhood 

Who breaks through the night to day, 

Life is but a small creation 

Fashioned from the universe ; 
Planets are the sifted fragments 

Reared by swathing space, their nurse. 
Man is formed alone by making ; 

Brute is he without the strife : 
Idleness alone is failure. 

And to strive is only life. 

He who waits the dawn to glisten, 

Stays a prisoner in his cell ; 
Though the gloom of night enfolds me, 

In the dark I work as well. 



42 Before the Dawn 

In the darkness is a pathway- 
Leading onward to the day : 

Outward is the gaze of ages ; 
Inward, tracks to slow decay. 

Oh, the hours that fled in weeping, 

Tears that moistened my lament, 
Waiting only for the morrow, 

When redemption might be sent ! 
But the morrow saw no dawning, 

And the night was filled with gloom, 
Life became a sad despairing. 

And my refuge but the tomb. 

Had I only heard the message : 

* ' Struggle through the night to day 
Let the thickest gloom encircle, 

Be no beacon for the way ' ' ! 
What in darkness we are seeing 

Can a hero's courage try : — 
God has given life for striving, 

And to wait is but to die. 



The Prophet 43 



The Prophet 



Come, my brethren, let us linger, linger at our tem- 
ple door, 
And reclaim the spirit message of our ancient 

mother lore ; 
Let us gather garbed with reverence and approach 

our temple shrine, 
Learning what our sainted fathers with prophetic 

soul divine. 
Spirit children of the fathers seeking God to know 

his law, 
Who beheld creation sweetened by his majesty 

and awe, 
Found the dawn to sing of mercy and the even 

whispering love, 
While the trembling scale of justice spelled the 

starry lights above. 
Worlds unnumbered touched with being, drinking 

life from one same stream, 
Wrought the vision of one manhood in their very 

childhood's dream. 



44 Before the Dawn 

From citron vales and orange groves, from hills the 

vines have netted, 
From sylvan glades and mossy fens, from meadows 

brooks have petted, 
Where pomegranates, sycamores, and cedars 

sweeten air. 
Where cypress weeps and willow moans, where 

almonds bow in prayer. 
From pasture lands and grazing plots where Ba- 

shan's kine are browsing 
And honey-bearing bees disturb and sting the 

flowers from drowsing. 
Where meek-eyed sheep and timid ewes retrace 

their thought-reft way, 
Amid the haunts of nature's build, exempt from 

man's survey. 
We bid our fancy journey forth and traverse there 

today. 
There to lands the ocean rends, where holy thoughts 

array 
Imagination, to rebuild and house these ancient men 
Whose speech has echoed down in time and given 

tongue to pen. 
Come, mark the shepherd meditate and council 

hold with God, 
And carve the laws which armored men where'er 

his feet have trod. 



The Prophet 45 

Oft night had whispered of her ways, and stars re- 
voiced their strain, 
And galaxies had spelled their life, and moons 

divulged their wane, 
Bold day discoursed his uncrossed powers and 

praised his pageant might. 
Then flashed across the hollow dome his radiant 

circling light. 
And dawn departed with a sigh, and twilight mused 

on life. 
While wind and rain conspired with storms to set 

their anthems rife ; — 
All nature voiced a single text and jeweled in every 

rock 
One law — the law of righteousness — the thoughts 

of God unlock. 

Calmly munched the herds their fodder; sunk in 
thought the shepherd stood. 

Mining from his soul's recesses thoughts to garnish 
mortal's good, 

Seized from stars illuming heaven thoughts to shape 
the human race, 

Laws and ordinance of heaven earth will throne in 
monarch's place. 

Worlds above obey an order ; soon will man em- 
brace that law. 

What the silent heavens whisper, kindles in man's 
breast his awe. 



46 Before the Dawn 

From the orbits stream forth justice ; Pleiades con- 
firm the plan ; 
And the orbs reflect the righteousness to guide the 

steps of man. 
Pious thoughts from holy subjects learned the 

shepherd in his world, 
From his mountain lands the vision of the perfect 

man unfurled. 
Man, the eons will remold him, bring him 'neath 

these world-spanned laws, 
Teach him of God's mighty workings and acquaint 

him with his cause. 
He will marvel at his living, find his life an awful 

deed, 
Praise his God who fashions planets to reveal his 

justice plead. 
Worlds above prescribe the duty man in action must 

impart ; 
What the stars sing makes the anthems that must 

sound from every heart ; 

Softly crept the speeding sunbeams, lit with shades 

the eastern hills ; 
Twilight glimmer gently fading all the mountain 

region fills. 
Sadness whelming pondering shepherd summons 

duties for his herd, 
Drawing him from his communion; thought of 

earth the night conferred. 



The Prophet 47 

Fields and pasture lands deserted, ways of men the 

hour partakes. 
Man sees only what is holy when he kindred ways 

betakes. 
'Mong the cots and huddled dwellings, where the 

people mass and thrive, 
Where the tongues are ever babbling, men of God 

are not alive. 
From his woodland and his pasture, from his con- 
verse with the flowers, 
From his mountains and the meadow, where he 

mused in waking hours. 
Came the shepherd with his burdens, with his mes- 
sage of the spheres — 
Silent, speechless, meditating, in the realm of man 

appears, 
Slowly drawing nigh his dwelling, passing through 

the files of men, 
While they reverence him with terror for his fancied 

demon's ken. 
Quick he turns ; a cry of anguish thrills his ears 

and stings his heart — 
Master beating helpless servant makes his tears with 

pity start. 
Blow on blow the cudgel empties till the form is 

cramped with pain ; 
With defiance armed, the shepherd hath to earth 

the master lain. 



48 Before the Dawn 

Towering o'er him in his manhood, thundering 

from his sweUing throat : 
" Smitest man as thou created, as a shepherd beats 

his goat ? 
God hath fashioned man with mercy; know that 

man is not a beast : 
When the blood is witness bearing, then the servant 

is released." 
Gnashed the man : a maddened lion casts no harsher, 

threatening look ; 
Cowed before his stalwart chider, crawled away, his 

path betook. 
Mangled in the dust the servant, bent the shepherd 

o'er his frame, 
Querying whether from this wreckage life could flash 

a conscious flame, 
Propped the servant on his shoulders, bore him 

kindly through the throng, 
Tended him a patient mother, while the night v/as 

rolled along. 
Woke the morrow from his torture, scarred from 

master's savage beats, 
Crawled away bespeaking praises, — to his master 

'gain retreats. 

Then awoke the dawn in glory, touched the hills 

with golden gleam. 
Woke the birds to warbling music, stirred the 

flowers from midnight's dream. 



The Prophet 49 

Kissed the dews that pearled the grasses, whisper- 
ing greetings to the trees, 
Lent the leaves their natural sighings, spread the 

rose breath on the breeze. 
On the mountain slope, the shepherd hearkens to 

the jingling bell 
As along the winding footpath through the vale the 

echo fell. 
Quietly crop the herd the grasses freshened by the 

morning dew — 
Deeper tinted by the moonlight, younger life her 

tears imbue. 
Now the sun is scaling heaven and the world is all 

ahum ; 
Golden-throated orioles fleeting take their flight and 

come, 
Sweeping round the trellised hillside, singing in 

their wanton way. 
Joyous in the risen sunshine, happy in the light of 

day ; 
And among his day companions — his uncanny, 

silent friends, — 
Mid the faithful hillside warders, now the shepherd's 

footstep bends. 
There among the speechless children may he voice 

his own heart's speech — 
When the soul is clothed in silence do our visions 

heaven reach : — 



50 Before the Dawn 

And towards God his heart was turning — how his 
blessing he might win, 

How a lonely shepherd peasant might his master 
offering bring, 

How he meekly in his temple might pronounce his 
holy name, 

With thanksgiving and devotion light his own re- 
ligious flame. 

Visions of the holy city did the structured cloudlets 

rear; 
And the sacred temple precinct through the azure 

hue did peer — 
Gilded in the varying glitter of the golden noon- 
day's sun. 
Glistening in the waving sunbeams, on the mountain 

side was spun. 
All the splendor of the temple, jeweled with Oriental 

gems. 
Flashed in beauty in the distance where the spray 

the seacoast hems ; 
And the fairy minstrel warblers vocalize the Levite 

choir 
Chanting solemnly the anthem, hearts of worshippers 

inspire. 
Clothed in chastened robes of Syriac, paced the 

priest the temple hall. 
Sacredly the stately columns spread o'er him their 

solemn pall. 



The Prophet 51 

Multitudes from distant cantons brought their ofter- 

ing to his feet, 
Begging that divine protection might their warring 

clansmen meet. 
Altars guarded by cherubim, priestly vessels filled 

with oil, 
Pictured he the lurking shadows which around the 

mountain coil ; 
And a merry flock of swallows winging cheerfully 

their flight, 
Limned the caravan of pilgrims, as they flit before 

his sight. 
Pulsed emotions grave and holy through his medi- 
tating frame, 
In Jerusalem the holy would he call on Yahveh's 

name. 

Westward was the sunlight circling ; and the gates 
were held ajar, 

Anxious for the fiery driver and his light-bestowing 
car. 

Peering through the softened glowing shone a lam- 
bent evening star 

Heralding the patient darkness from the unsought 
realms afar. 

On the shoulder of the evening rests the moon with 
silver crest. 

Unvoiced messages of duty to the faithful watch 
addressed, 



52 Before the Dawn 

Days of sacrifice and fasting till the new moon's 

gleams recall 
Prayer and solemn meditation in the holy temple's 

hall. 
With the multitude of pilgrims would he lift his 

humble voice ; 
When the chants of priests were echoed would his 

pious lips rejoice. 
Oh, the soul that yearns for righteousness and 

longs to walk with God 
That aspires to reach the higher things and tread 

where seers trod ! 
Oh, the love that flames in manly breasts, with 

warmth for all mankind ! 
Thou alone in peace and holiness estranging man 

will bind. 

O'er the roughhewn mountain pathway traced the 

caravan their course ; 
Camels, asses, prancing chargers, mingle in the vast 

concourse 
Streaming forth to flood the city, where the holy 

temple stood, 
Filled the air with babel voices from the motley 

multitude. 
Crawling toilsome through the passes, quarreling at 

each trifling turn, 
Angrily the host advances to the sacred temple 

bourn. 



The Prophet 53 

Silently the lonely shepherd stirred the dust of 

thousand feet, 
Sadly waiting for the pageant in the distance he 

would greet, 
When, alack ! a cry of anguish rings its heart- 
subduing wail — 
Brutally a helpless woman cast with curses from the 

trail, 
And for pity begs imploring to be spared the lonely 

tramp 
To the city 'neath the noontide, and the chill of 

midnight's damp. 
Harshly growled the savage chieftain, cursed her 

and her father's race. 
Called the righteous skies to smite her and redeem 

this unclean place. 
Piously the tender mother guards her weeping 

orphan child. 
Praying for the hand of mercy in these mountains 

waste and wild. 
When the mute and speechless shepherd halts 

before the outcast pair, 
Turns with mercy towards the woman, tends her 

with his kindly care. 
Breathing words of helpful comfort, bears her bur- 
dens in his train, 
Marches onward to the distance till the city they 

regain. 



54 Before the Dawn 

In the temple have they gathered all the pilgrims 

of the land, 
In the sacred halls of worship trembling do the 

people stand. 
Awful are the vast proportions reaching far beyond 

his view : 
What is massive is majestic ; what is great does awe 

imbue. 
Silently the humble shepherd drinks the quaffs of 

longed-for sight, 
But the glory of his vision vanished as departing 

light. 
All the solemness was clamor, all the awe was 

petty brawls, 
And the chants of priests were mingled with the 

shouts from echoing halls. 

Where the altar's incense offered, where the f^tes of 

Baalish rites 
Mingled with the pure and holy, linked the worship 

of "the heights," 
When the flame of holy horror burned with vigor 

in his frame. 
And inspired the shepherd madly at defilements of 

his holy name. 
Dashed the offering from the altars, smote the 

merchants in the hall, 
Grasped his goad with threatening glances, drove 

them meekly to the wall, 



The Prophet 55 

And with trembling lips addressed them, he the 

shepherd from the land, 
Spoke in voice of thunder-magic, swayed them with 

his molding hand : 
"Sons of Judah, be this worship when we desecrate 

his name, 
When ye call on foreign godheads and their service 

be your aim. 
When ye offer herds of cattle and the temple 

streams with oil. 
When your helpless brethren perish by your hard, 

oppressive toil ? 
Where is mercy when ye revel ? where is prayer in 

slaughter pen ? 
Is there holiness in bart' ring ? where is righteous- 
ness in m.en ? 
What is sacrifice to Yahveh ? does the ruler of the 

spheres 
Heed your hecatombs of cattle through the new 

moons and the years ? 
For your hearts are brass and iron, and the tears of 

widowed wife 
Do not soothe the sorrow -beaten in your wrangle 

and your strife. 
Heaven will revolt and smite you; all your har- 
vests will be naught. 
And the God who judges heaven will devour your 

fields with drought. 



56 Before the Dawn 

Who are ye who enter temples to defile my holy 

name? 
With my thunder will I smite you, and consume 

you with my flame. 
In the earthquake hangs my anger, and the tempest 

is my ire, 
And the brazen desert simoon is my flash of wrath- 
ful fire. 
Shall the vineyard mourn the vintage, and the 

wheat fields moan the grain ? 
Shall this earth yearn for her moisture, and the 

heavens jail their rain ? 
Earth will tremble ere my message wings its voice 

to man amiss — 
That my righteousness is holy and my sacrifice is 

this: 
Holiness thy worship : be thy life as calm as dawn, 
Softer than retiring sunbeams when the evening 

creeps along. 
God alone doth walk majestic ; be his children meek 

before him, 
And address his throne with gladness, with the 

cymbal and the hymn. 
Is this sacrifice, ye merchants, princes of the land, 

the great, 
When ye barter with the widow, with the poor for 

lucre prate? 



The Prophet 57 

Is the temple of the Father nigh but those who 

jingle gold? 
Does his heart throb for the mighty ? are the meek 

without his fold ? 
Ye the humble are his children, and his tears are 

for the just ; 
Not the lofty mind beholds God, but he lowered to 

the dust. 
Will ye smite me? What God willeth echoes in the 

shepherd's voice; 
Harken to his words and listen. What does his 

voice say to ye? 
Naught but truth that is not blinding; truth he 

whispers unto me. 
Ye sons of Jacob, hearken ; not in thunder dwells 

his speech, 
Not the lightning guards his message, but the heart 

his pleadings reach. 
Know that thou art man, as himself he hath thee 

made. 
In thy soul is love implanted ; righteousness is there 

arrayed. 
Thus the light of morning triumphs over hostile foes 

of night, 
Man arises : be thou holy ; make thy peace by 

Yahveh's light; 



58 Before the Dawn 

And our God will spread his knowledge o'er the 

land and on the sea, 
And the world in later ages made the world that is 

to be." 

But the priests were mad with fury, and they drove 

him from his stand, 
Flew upon his noble visage, overpowered his 

struggling hand, 
Beat him far beyond his living, cast his carcass from 

the hall. 
Dragged it from the temple precinct, hurled it o'er 

the city wall ; 
And the hungry fowls of heaven and the lurking 

dogs of earth, 
Feasted on the noblest mortal God had ever fur- 
nished birth. 
But his voice has lost no echoes; still his words 

resound today : 
And the life of man is molded by the souls who 

pass away. 



The Travelers 59 



The Travelers 

Not lonely ; on a desert waste, 

In solitude, or friendless cast, 
The traveler in urging haste 

Betakes his way, to rest at last 
By willowed streams or cooling pool. 

He is not single on his way ; 
Two constant unseen pilgrims rule 

His path and guide him night and day. 

One pilgrim cheers the toilsome route 

With promise of reward ahead ; 
And turns all hesitating, mute, 

By tributes to the task instead; 
With hopeful trust he grasps the hand, 

Marks habitation in the space ; 
In vision sees the promised land, 

And triumph smiling on his face. 

He beckons on, and "Forward" cries; 

" Surmount the hilltops towering high ; 
Make every plain beneath the skies ; 

As easy streams to ferry by ; 



6o Before the Dawn 

But ever onward ! never halt ! 

The end is hidden in each tread, 
That will the journey's toil exalt : 

So, onward ! see the goal ahead ! ' * 

The other pilgrim calmer sighs. 

Is bent with bitter age and spite. 
Blots out the footprints that arise. 

And waits with patience for the night. 
He drags hard by, and tugs the robe, 

Would bind each step in every move, 
Frowns archedly as though a load 

The plodding of his journey drove. 

He ever cries, "O do not go ! 

The goal ahead is strangely new ; 
'Tis darkness there, we do not know 

By searching it forget the true. 
O stay but where for ages stood 

Our blessed goal ! why journey on? 
With us has dwelt the true and good. 

And what more can abide beyond? " 

And thus the traveler hears these two 
Plead each the journey to betake. 

On whom shall he bestow adieu. 

Or, heeding whom, which mate forsake? 



The Travelers 6i 

He moves between their pleading voice, 
And trusts the virtue of his soul 

To guide him in his vital choice ; 
And wonder 'tis he meets his goal. 



62 Before the Dawn 



Burial in a Lonely Churchyard 

Slowly tread the mournful marching 

With the burden of the dead. 
Though the sun is heaven arching, 

Gloom descends from overhead. 
Droop the eyelids, still the cheering 

Of a thoughtless wren or thrush ; 
Still the whispering breezes fearing 

Neither life nor death — all hush. 

When a mother's heart is breaking. 

Let us bend in awe our head ; 
Not farewell is she then taking, 

But herself dies with her dead. 
Though so bright the earth and sunny, 

Could the sunshine sob or mourn ? 
When the land is gay and bonny, 

Must he to his grave be borne ? 

But we paused beside the churchyard, 
Paid our tribute to the dead ; 

In this solemn rite, none forward 
Who nigh to the grave are led. 



Burial in a Lonely Churchyard 63 

Here we find our common kinship ; 

Strangers unto strangers speak ; 
And the mutter on the lip 

Joins the stronger with the weak. 

Who is he they sadly carry, — 

Bend their frames to hide their face ? 
Why upon each footstep tarry 

Lest too soon they reach the place 
Where the mother earth receives him 

Whom his mother sobbed farewell, 
And the chanting of a hymn 

Answers that his lot is well ? 

Slow, with steady step, the preacher 

Stands before the fresh- turned grave. 
Death's consoler, but life's teacher, 

Must through hope the stricken save. 
Soft he speaks of life's redemption. 

Of his brother's homeward call ; 
Comforts with the soothing mention — 

Life's one destiny for all. 

They who till the soil are nearest 

To the call of life or death ; 
To them only is earth dearest, 

Who have felt her throb and breath. 



64 Before the Dawn 

Earth is truly their one mother ; 

She has nursed them with her care : 
She provideth them ; no other 

Earns their faithful, humble prayer. 

Ah ! they know, who spread the wrapping 

Of the sod about his bier 
To the earth returned, no happ'ning 

With death's rest will interfere. 
Saved is he, and, in their vision, 

Nearer to the throne of God 
Than we who provide derision 

For the humbler sons of clod. 

Will his soul arise to heaven ? 

Enter in his Father's home? 
He alone, to whom was given 

Soul in earthward wake to come, 
Reascend again, and single, 

Cleansed from earth' s polluting wear ? 
With the Father freely mingle ? 

Dwell in peace abiding there? 

I can never fancy mortal 

Parted from his human kind, 

In some distant realm to tell 

How earth's creatures wend and wind. 



Burial in a Lonely Churchyard 65 

Oh, there is no soul alone, 

Here on earth or there above ; 
Soul it is of every one 

Blessing with our deeds of love. 

What is his soul without my soul ? 

Is our life by self ordained ? 
Do the breakers rush or roll. 

By themselves be calmed or chained ? 
Oh, no more the one we mourn, 

Lest we moan the human lot ; 
And the sigh to heaven borne 

Is the grief of all forgot. 

Oh, we need no more the grieving 

Of the one without the whole. 
Not the self alone we're leaving; 

Only man is now our goal. 
Self is only of the darkness 

We through tears and sighs outgrew, 
And the larger self must bless 

Larger manhood born anew. 

Bid no more my soul to flee 

From the bourne of earth and time, 

Saved throughout eternity 
For the holy and sublime ; 



66 Before the Dawn 

My soul shall no more be worth 
What tithes not the human race ; 

And the good must even girth 
Every mortal in his place. 

We but live through greater living ; 

Life partakes of only life ; 
By our labors we are giving 

Only what in man is rife. 
Though my soul receives my care, 

Man does send the sleepless guard 
When I pray it is the prayer 

Not a soul would dare retard. 

Yea, my soul endow expanses 

Till it forms a smaller part 
Of the one who life enhances — 

Who the gainer in the art ? 
Shall myself alone be reckoned 

Better than my human kind ? 
Every part that mortals beckoned 

But with human hearts to bind ? 

Who in heaven is the chooser? 

Who discerns what heaven wants ? 
Is there yonder a refuser 

For the boons my bosom pants ? 



Burial In a Lonely Churchyard 67 

My wish grows upon the craving 
Of each earthly son and child ; 

All the race reveals the saving 
When we wander loose and wild. 

How is then my soul perfected ? 

Man alone can purify, 
By the will of man corrected, 

All the faults ourselves defy. 
From the race no soul can wander 

Towards the misty shores of space ; 
Parted from the ranks we flounder, 

Die without the human race. 

Over him the earth is strewn, 

And the sunshine dries the tears ; 
In their hearts his deeds are hewn, 

There abides for weeks and years. 
And his soul ? — alas ! I know not 

Where in heaven's realm 'twill rest, 
Were it not our human lot 

To preserve each brother's best. 

We are gifted by the living 

Of each son who treads on earth ; 

By each life a life is giving 

To enlarge our scope and worth. 



6S Before the Dawn 

We are all the vanished ages, 
So are we the soul of all ; 

And when death our life assuages, 
Still I live despite the call ! 



A Psalm for Toilers 69 



A Psalm For Toilers 

Say not that * ' my life is lonely, ' ' 
When your hand can turn a deed ; 

There is quiet to him only 

Whom death frees from every need. 

Where a cry of pain is pleading, 
Where a soul cries in distress, 

Where a mother's heart is bleeding, 
There thy life will find ingress. 

Life, alas, is small and narrow, 
When ourself is all we tend ; 

More from neighbor must we borrow, 
That in fuller life we blend. 

God has given man this kingdom, 
Earth the planet for his home ; 

Here he dwelt and wrought his freedom, 
As the years and ages come. 

Earth is not man's only treasure; 

Without him the earth is bare : 
He must add a higher measure 

To the growth in rudeness there. 



70 Before the Dawn 

Earth shall be a heaven banished ! 

This, man's kingdom and abode: 
If a higher world has vanished, 

Man must bring to earth his god. 

Deeply planted in his bosom 
Are the roots of human love ; 

By his deeds this love will blossom, 
Rich as in some realm above. 

Man is more the god in being, 
Moved to kindly, noble deeds, 

Than the saint a heaven seeing 

When his way from mankind leads. 

Heaven spreads in glory o' er us ; 

Glory too dwells in the race ; 
Man is crowned a saint in fulness 

When love's light illumes his face. 

Shall we wait, when all creation 

Cries aloud for only man? 
♦ Shall we sit in brute cessation, 
When to do is but to plan. 

Oh to hear the ceaseless pleading. 
When a touch will ease a pain ! 

Oh to see a mortal heeding 

Only what will bring him gain ! 



A Psalm for Toilers 71 

And my heart bursts with an anger 

That the freedom fathers won 
Slips away because our languor 

Wills no hero-living done. 

Meekly wait we for the morrow, 
Trusting that each dawn will bring 

What we lose in tears or sorrow, 
All the greed of man can wring. 

Then we whimper, ' ' Life is dreaming. 
And the grave our only goal." 

God ! is life an empty seeming, 
And thy spirit not my soul ? 

But to do is godly action ; 

God with his own children works ! 
Doing is the world's refraction; 

In our deeds divineness lurks. 

And I know no hand is willing 

To decry the Maker's use ; 
When our life with faith is thrilling. 

Idleness is coward's excuse. 

Hopelessness no deed should bridle ; 
Earth repeats her strong command, 
' ' Let no mortal here be idle, 

Work awaits each willing hand." 



72 Before the Dawn 



Meditations at Twilight 

Ah ! more and more at evening, 

When twilight edges to its end, 
And darkness, eastern caverns leaving, 

Her shadows o'er creation bend. 
Do those thin moments foster musing 

Upon the pageant of decay, 
As glory into night diffusing 

Brings untoward sadness in her way. 

'Tis then that sorrow overcomes me. 

In this so calm and peaceful hour, — 
A vague, unspoken, silent pity, 

Because our earth stoops to the power 
Of this most calm and tender spell : 

A cloud it seems of some despair, 
A dim regret that days dispel 

Such golden grandeur to the air. 

Thus lingers in the hour a strain 
Of all our sorrow, all the care 

Our life has witnessed, all the pain 
Redemption seeks with prayer — 



Meditations at Twilight 73 

The cry of legions, silent tears 

Of ages and our generation : 
So palls this silence, and it wears 

With awe the veil of veneration. 

Yet more than all this sorrow, fear 

That faith and love, the clasps of life. 
Are weakened, vanquished, year by year, 

When by our dimming doubts and strife 
With thought we combat even God, 

And question more his unread law 
Than wisdom, treading on this sod. 

Or her firstborn children, saw. 

Emboldened by the searching age, 

I too would spy the misty shores, 
And hearken to the ceaseless rage 

Of time, make music from his roars ; 
I too with doubt and shy mistrust, 

Exploit the certainty of things, 
And turn the soul of man to dust. 

Make discord when our trusting sings. 

A very child of this odd clime, 

Yet saddened now by doubt's dark cloud, 
That decks the sweeter childhood time 

Of life, I argue with a shroud. 



74 Before the Dawn 

And render e'en the hush of death 
Quite vocal, setting in the frame 

Of death a sound, and Hving breath ; 
Call life and death by one same name. 

The world of doubt and man's despair 

Could flood my bosom with regret, 
With sorrow breathe the evening air, 

And trust the anguish would forget : 
New life, new visions throb my being ; 

My heart beats with the sires of old, 
Uplifted by their vision, seeing 

What man by doubting must withhold. 

Within that evening hour there comes 

A recollection, faint and dim. 
Of boyhood, Sabbath lights, and homes, 

Of synagogue, and temple hymn ; 
When in abated breath we heard 

The echoes of our spirit fathers 
In praise and reverential word 

Of prayer. Their kindly spirit hovers ; 

Their hymns reecho in my dream. 

They too felt doubt, despondency. 
And saw our mistrusts also beam 

In thought. The sage and poet's fancy 



Meditations at Twilight 75 

Gave them hope beyond the mind : 
Howe'er by mist God's way be hid, 

His thoughts with all his children bind, 
His mercy will no man forbid. 

Far more than reason could control 

They felt their God to live and be, 
And taught in faith their heart and soul 

Beyond the bounds of mystery — 
Not faith absorbed by childish trust, 

Nor thoughtless words without intent, 
But faith that man is more than dust, 

And God on righteous ways is bent. 

Too contrite to mistrust the plan 

Their Father had for earth ordained, 
Too willing to accept for man 

The duty : * ' More of God be gained ! 
Let night be night, but Hve in day ; 

Go, turn to peace each rankling strife, 
For God conceals no hidden way 

To him who walks with God through life." 

But thee all times thy children sought, 
And found thy mercy hath no end : 

Be greater deeds and actions wrought 
On earth today than in the trend 



76 Before the Dawn 

Of generations turned to dust ; 

Our bosom still with love must heave, 
With hope and common manful trust — 

The rest to God we meekly leave. 

And while the awful spell abides, 

Comes consolation for the pain ; 
From us our Father nothing hides. 

Since towards him is our steady gain. 
We are as all mankind have been ; 

We too draw nigh with him alone, 
And find as all his sons have seen, 

A God is seated on the throne. 

Each pilgrim climbs the weary way 

To loftier heights and misty clouds ; 
Each valiant soul would plain array 

The darkness which our vision shrouds ; 
God always dwells one peak beyond ; 

Man's highest reach is God's footstool; 
Upon man's height his script is conned. 

And praise to him who gave that rule. 

And so the twilight now may come. 
With trailing sorrow in its wake ; 

Not helplessly need I to roam, 
Nor fully of its grief partake. 



Meditations at Twilight 77 

The world becomes thus man's abode 
By these same sorrows, this same grief; 

Without a common plane to tread, 
In death would be our sole relief. 

And, lo ! upon yon bright ascent, 

There glitters joyously the star, 
Proclaiming night. Ah ! day has sent 

Her messengers of light afar. 
Come, spirit of the evening, dwell 

With us, and in our life's increase 
Of doubt, and the annoying spell 

Of discontent, to us bring peace. 



78 Before the Dawn 



Call of a Poet 

Though my song may want the music, 
Thanks to God the song is there ; 

Though I dwell not with the masters, 
Still I breathe their buoyant air. 

O repress my vapid mouthings, 
Call this stirring voice to halt : 

When I mutter harsh and vainly, 
I am called ; ' tis not my fault ! 

Spirits hear I ; though your hearing 
Seals the sound beyond your reach, 

Me they signal and communion, 
E'en implore, abjure, beseech. 

By their auras am I charmed. 

Fault is it to hear their voice ? 
Sinning were it to prevent it, 

And refuse their untoward choice. 

Love of man they ever mutter, 
Love of life, of earth, and more ; 

Make from earth a heaven vanished. 
Peace amid the strife and roar. 



Call of a Poet 79 

In the soul of every mortal 

Is the touch of God made plain ; 

Live, then, in the light of heaven, 

Heaven, through earth, once more to gain. 

Sing ! though soundless be the message, 

Ring in mighty tones thy word ! 
Of the living none may hear thee ; 

At the throne of God 'tis heard. 



8o Before the Dawn 



Songs of Poets 

Though their music be mortal, need the singer greatly care? 

Poet, let not all thy music 

Echo from the woods or dale, 
Though entrancing be the magic 

When it lifts a sigh or wail. 

Oh, the dreariness of living 
Finds no softer, sweeter balm. 

Than the drops the leaves are giving 
When the winds are low and calm, 

And to hearken to the humming 
Of the countless wafted strains, 

Liquid notes from visions coming, 
Chirrups, carols, and refrains. 

He who dwells in melody 

Makes the woodland copse his home ; 
Nature tunes her harmony 

Where her chosen singers come. 

Birds are poets of the forest : 
Hearken to their stirring rhyme ! 

Cheers from them in spring and harvest, 
Floods of music all the time. 



Songs of Poets 8i 

And I would, as I am wearied 

Of this world and senseless life, 
There to dwell, a hermit buried, 

Live above this cheapening strife, 

Drown the roar of street and bustle 

With the flute notes of a bird, 
And the only sound a rustle 

Of a birch or pine tree heard. 

Poet, thou whose heart is thrilling 
With an anguish, pang, and strain. 

To the leaves and forest willing- 
Songs to ease our human pain ! 

Sing the struggles of our living — 
Songs of oppressed human hearts, 

Where the masses crowd, and, seething, 
Sell and barter in the marts ; 

Where the selfishness of savage 

Rages as the thunder's roar. 
And the grasping hands do ravage 

As the slavery of yore. 

And the men no longer traffic 

With the toiler's handiwork : — 
Soul and heart, our life and being 

In those sleek exchanges lurk. 



82 Before the Dawn 

Here, O singer, find the measure ! 

Man sings only such a song, 
Wherein beats and accents treasure 

What does to his life belong. 

Love of fellow-man and country, 

Brotherhood, and right the themes, — 

Labor paid in wholesome bounty, — 
These illume the poet's dreams. 

Grander monument arises 

From the feeling heart of man 

Than the harp or lyre apprises 

When their range the fingers scan. 

Though they mock both song and singer, 
Jeer the throbbing heart with scorn. 

Shake the judge's caution finger. 
Weep for you, and even mourn. 

Poet's more than judge or censor — 
Singer for the Lord on high ! 

Sing triumphant as a mentor ; 
Heaven's message drags no sigh ! 

Sing as one divinely chanting ; 

Be the oracle of God — 
Seer even, prophet ranting, 

Godlike on this earthly sod. 



Songs of Poets 83 

What then are the HUs and ditties, 

Floating dreamhke on refrains? 
Voices cry from out our cities, 

Stirring deeper, nobler strains ! 

These must be the song's chief burden : 

For the self we need no song ; 
Only for the people, stir them 

'Gainst the mighty host of wrong. 

Make us feel our life has worth ! 

Link the lowest with the high ; 
Dear to him who calls us forth, — 

None made subjects but to die ! 

Raise the higher note of manhood, 

Lest the brute rewin his plot ! 
When men know they act as God would, 

Paradise becomes their lot. 

He is godlike who is manlike ; 

Heaven is a larger earth : 
Though the two seem ever unlike, 

Nearer draw they by each birth. 



84 Before the Dawn 



Songs of the Future 

Come, my dear one, while the evening 

Closes on a wearied world ; 
Let me, with my fancy weaving 

Truths a later thought unfurled. 
Here upon this bank reclining, 

Watch the shadows on the sea, 
Mark the waning sunbeams twining 

Only deeper thoughts for me. 

Here we rest ; and silence lingers, 

Wraps the thought and thinker both, 
Calms the music of the singers. 

Makes the task of speaking loath. 
Now the soothing song of wooers. 

Now to sigh my lover' s speech ! 
When the sunlight slants and lowers 

Do our hearts their wants beseech. 

Shall it be to sing an old rhyme 
Redolent with mirth of yore — 

Bring the youth and glee of May time 
From the ages gone afore ? 



Songs of the Future 85 

Shall it be the robust humor, 

Harshly thundered from the throat, 

Slipping into calm the sooner 

Through the loud and rasping note ? 

Oh, the sweet and lulling verses 

From the troubadours of old ! 
Oh, their songs a love rehearses, 

Never false, or trite, or cold ! 
From their font of melody 

Only one clear stream to flow, 
With its murmurs to enfold me 

As the ripples come and go ! 

On this music would I hearken. 

Draw upon me its soft spell. 
Gladdened that when shadows darken 

Sweetness does from mortals quell. 
Though the earth in gloom is drooping. 

Sadness in the wind and air, 
By their songs a heart is hoping, 

Once defeated by despair. 

And I would my lips had magic, 

Charmed the heart and thrilled the soul ; 

By a bowstring and a note trick 
Win the lonely to control. 



86 Before the Dawn 

With the song of ancient singers, 
And the lay and Maypole dance : 

Where a strain with mankind lingers, 
Peace is king of sword and lance. 

So, my dear one, let me sing you 

Only tunes men hummed before — 
Live those happy, childish days, too. 

We lament, and live no more ! 
But I know — and greater sadness 

Makes the hidden secret true — 
Chanting those old tunes were madness 

When we're craving for the new ! 

No, today the lyre's not silent ! 

Men must strike a newer chord ; 
Singing has a younger content, 

More than could the old afford. 
Serenades and lovely maiden 

Fitted once the land of Spain ; 
Orange blossoms, music laden, 

With a rapturous refrain ; 

Citron vales and cypress moaning, 
Bluish skies and heaven's deep; 

Lovers over oceans roaming 
To behold their mistress weep. 



Songs of the Future Sy 

No, my dear one, we no longer 
Sing as did those gallant knights. 

And our love has grown the stronger 
With our freer, juster rites. 

He who lives today must answer 

Echoes from the hearts of men — 
They who live today and transfer 

Things within their sight and ken. 
Man has greater, vaster consorts ; 

Power and force are his domain ; 
With the mighty are his resorts, — 

Nature wild, unbound to gain. 

Man supreme above all forces, 

Man the king and subject both ! 
Pride of power within him courses — 

Sing the stages of his growth ! 
He is Hke a giant restored. 

Feels and acts like kings of eld ; 
Through the mountain's heart he burrowed, 

With his sinews oaks are felled. 

He before no tyrant cowers ; 

Men have equal right with kings ! 
From the throne a scepter lowers, 

Makes the reign of man begin ! 



88 Before the Dawn 

Wider reigning now must follow ; 

Men shall not by gold be high ! 
Man before all things to hallow, 

Only manhood deify ! 

And the past can claim no vision 

Which the future will not rear ; 
In the distance dwells the region 

We approach from year to year. 
Then will man revive his freedom, 

Live exempt from drossy toil ; 
Every country, then, his kingdom. 

Every land his native soil ! 

Though the night is now upon us, 

See, the same soft moonbeams shine, 
Flood the earth with patient calmness. 

As my heart is calmed by thine. 
Shall we hum a tune for cheering ? 

Murmur while the breezes rest ? 
Make the moments all endearing, 

As you lean upon my breast ? 

Oh, for you my lips would utter 

Songs won from the new and young, 

Out from this new world to flutter. 
On the newer harpchords strung. 



Songs of the Future 89 

Though the old has now departed, 
Song in man shall never cease ; 

Strong as men today are hearted, 
Music can alone win peace. 

So I would that we could linger 

Till the night suffused our soul. 
And the grandeur stir the singer 

Till the songs would rush and roll : 
And I know the song I'd utter 

Would be praise of earth today ; 
Though my lips would faintly mutter, 

This alone would stir and sway. 



90 Before the Dawn 



An Incident at the Fair 

I NEVER thought a county fair 
Would make a theme for poets ; 

No, never felt such common things 
Our range and loftier flight befits. 

Oh, in our youth we all encase 
This earth with flowery vestment, 

And never trust to common clay 
For beauty's bold attestment. 

We cannot trust our good old earth 
With higher gifts and dower ; 

Our eye must dwell upon the far 
Or condescend to greet a flower. 

The beautiful in distant zones, 
What's furthest from our ken, 

We fancy fittest themes and plots 
To guide our speech and pen. 

To common earth we seldom glance 

For beauty unadorned ; 
The grandeur near our very gaze 

Is often veiled or scorned. 



An Incident at the Fair 91 

'TIs growing age that gains esteem 

For earthly presentation : 
To youth for beauty, age for sense, 

We lean for estimation. 



We came upon the county fair 
With loss of childish pleasure, 

In those gay buildings, merry crowds, 
Beheld no joy or treasure ; 

With lack of sympathy's accord. 

Bestowed a careless eye 
Upon each gaudy booth and stand. 

And coldly passed each by. 

About the racecourse people flocked — 

A singular exhibit — 
Without a rival, jockey, aid, 

A mare alone would run it. 

A sleek and splendid animal. 

Cleaned, combed, and fleet-appearing, 
Was lead in front the judges' stand. 

No crowds or noises fearing. 

The signal given, blankets donned, 
She starts upon her single race ; 

And every head and neck is stretched 
To see her run and pace. 



92 Before the Dawn 

Each leg gains on the speeding pair ; 

Around she flies, pursuing 
A foe invisible ahead — 

Herself the speed imbuing. 

And now the final goal she sights — 
The scene has gained confusion ; — 

She crossed the tape in hurried flight ; 
Our praises mount profusion. 

Applause shouts to the autumn air 
The cheers we all bestow her ; 

She knows not what the noises mean, 
Nor can we even show her. 

It is with us ; we mortals feel 
Her singular advancement 

To higher mind, and wisdom's plane, 
Upborne by mind's enhancement. 

We praise the feat, much more the rise, 
That lifts her from the common beast : 

A higher station in the world. 
We feel she justly won, at least. 

With beast or man we praise the rise 
From lower depths to higher ends ; 

We hail the uplift where it is 

When lowest into highest blends. 



The School Bell 93 



The School Bell 

*' O COME, little children, and dwell with me; 

Have you heard the love I bring you all ? 
A mother for all my flock to be 

Is the plea of my ring and the wish of my call." 
Thus rings the bell from the schoolhouse tower, 
A merry note for the morning hour ; 
And children trudge from house and home, 
With noisy clatter and laughter come. 
Some hurry along ; some drag their way ; 
Some hide and wait to flee the day : 
A fulsome flock is gathered withal 
To answer the cry of the school bell's call. 

*' O come, Httle children, and dwell with me; 

Together we'll tread a winding way. 
And both look sharp for what we may see, 

As earth spreads out her strange array." 
Thus rings the bell from the schoolhouse tower, 
A cheerful note for the morning hour ; 
And happy the world when life is young, 
And toil and strife are but begun. 
The children's eyes see all unfold — 
The story of life about to be told. 
A fulsome flock will come withal 
To answer the cry of the school bell's call. 



94 Before the Dawn 

'* O come, little man and maidenly miss ; 

What do we think of our little earth ? 
Ah ! many a thing may be amiss ; 

So come, let us go and carry it forth." 
Thus rings the bell from the schoolhouse tower, 
A gladsome voice for the morning hour ; 
And so they come from lane and street, 
A shuffle and scuffle of hurrying feet : 
A little thought with a little deed 
Is all this mighty world will need ; 
And a fulsome flock will come withal 
To answer the cry of the school bell's call. 

' ' O come, my man, you need not fear 
Your growing age will hush my call ; 

My cry rings out from year to year, 
But mother am I still for all." 

Thus rings the bell from the schoolhouse tower, 

A welcome note for the morning hour. 

The children soon grow up to men, 

And see their sons begin again ; 

But still the bell lifts up its song, 

That man may grow and march along, 

A fulsome flock to be, withal. 

To answer the cry of our country's call. 



Waiting 95 



Waiting 

I WAIT for the dawn and the setting, 
For a smile of the evening star ; 

And my heart grows cold with waiting 
For a love that comes from afar. 

I wait on the silence of heaven 
To tell where my love may be ; 

But heaven is calmed by its stillness, 
And echoes that stillness to me. 

I wait for my soul to whisper 

My love in her richness and bloom ; 

But my soul is wrapped in its silence 
And lisps but the calm of the tomb. 

O soul, why alone must thou wander 
With the pitiless silence of night, 

And wait till the stars are darkened, 
And the years are lost in their flight ? 

My heart will wait for the dawning, 
The setting and smile of a star ; 

E'en though my longing grows aged, 
And I stand at the judgment bar. 



96 Before the Dawn 

What God has planted within me 
Must bloom as the blush of the rose 

What my heart in its longing whispers 
The depth of that longing knows. 



Faith 97 



Faith 

A HAND once soothed my burning brow, 
And calmed my ache and pain : 

O tell me where that hand is now, 
To comfort me again ! 

A voice once answered from the deep 
My cry of grief and woe ; 

tell me where its echoes sleep, 
That thither I may go ! 

1 glance across the staring deep. 

And hark, but hear in vain , 
No whispers from that silence creep, 
No hand to ease my pain. 

And still I trust ; my heart does know, 
Somewhere, somehow, again. 

That voice and hand will both bestow 
A balm for ill and pain. 



gS Before the Dawn 



October 

When apples hang on the orchard tree, 
And leaves forsake their summer's green, 

The wood thrush sings, ' ' To-whit to-whee, ' 
For the tender glow of autumn's sheen. 

The cricket drags her roundelay. 
As John, the farmer, turns the turf ; 

* * All sleep, ' ' sings he, * ' for many a day 

Must pass before you visit earth." 

When corn is stacked on the prairie land, 
To shiver whenever the frost winds blow. 

As sentries through the winter stand. 
And watch the snowflakes come and go, 

Then father comes with reddened face. 
Much hardened by his lifelong wear : 

* * All rest, ' ' sings he, " ' tis time and place 

To work again the coming year. ' ' 



The Flight of Happiness 99 



The Flight of Happiness 

Why waits upon each joyous hour 

The shrouded guise of sad regret ? 
Too weak the moments to empower 

Beyond their bounds of use or let. 
Each happy moment chants a dirge, 

A wild outcry as hearts implore, 
As restless waters shift and surge ; 

It murmurs sad, ' ' No more, no more ! ' ' 

Oh, not from winter's wail it learns 

To sigh the melancholy word. 
Not to the frosty midnight turns 

To hear what in our heart is heard. 
Oh, 'tis that only in our dreams 

We live the joys we graced afore ; 
A moment with our pleasure beams, 

Then wails the dirge, " No more, no more !" 

The sighing eyes of youth behold 
The flight of joys across his years ; 

And ere his praise of life is told. 
The niggard form of age appears ; 



lOO Before the Dawn 

And joy, a rainbow arch, is spanned 

From thoughtless birth to death's dim shore 

Life's journey, then, is swifdy planned. 
And echoes back, " No more, no more ! " 



A Knight of the New World loi 



A Knight of the New World 

With the flight of the morning sun is my ride o'er 

green-topped hills through valleys, 
And I greet the smiles of the cheerful dawn, when a 

sleepy world it rallies ; 
A knight of the modern world am I, and ride the 

steed of today 
As proudly gallant as knights of yore who kindled 

the combat and fray. 

The golden shades of the dawn I chase, as over the 

hilltops they scramble, 
And ride along on the dew-moist winds as on the 

leaves they ramble : 
With the carol of chanting birds I sing ; together 

we waken the earth, 
And sing out free on the tender air our cheers of 

living and mirth. 

The white-veiled clouds of dawn I hail, when mid- 
night's haunt they are leaving. 

And call for the tears the flowers have robbed and 
to their booty cleaving. 



I02 Before the Dawn 

We hasten along our speedy way, and never our 

footsteps recounting, 
So ever on like airy steeds the pathway of heaven 

remounting. 

''All hail," to the reaper my welcome I sing; "All 

hail," the welcome returning; 
And merry the echo resounds on the winds, as he 

halts, my journey discerning. 
Past cottage and hamlet and waving field, with the 

flight of the hour is my ride ; 
I glance aloft to follow the clouds, and the shadow 

of dawn by my side. 

The barefooted lad cries merrily forth as he comes 
from pasturing the flock, 

And cheerfully sounds our greeting and hail as to- 
gether the soft winds lock ; 

With boyish glee he waves his cap, adds cheer to 
the cheerful dawn — 

And cricket and bird in hedge and tree bring their 
small praise along. 

Past farmyard, house, and village church, past store 
and corner smithy. 

Past lonely churchyard's weathered slabs, with sad- 
ness stealing o'er me, 



A Knight of the New World 103 

Through arching trees, o'er rustic bridge, where 

sluggish streams are flowing, 
Around the bend, by fallow fields, and now where 

men are mowing, 

The barren schoolhouse on the hill, the sodworn 

plot to grace it, 
The twisted fence rails round the site where lurks 

the pupil's wit. 
The empty flagstaff, golden tipped, the broken 

blinds and window, — 
We swifdy pass as have the flocks that hither come 

and go. 

And now the village clustered homes our watchful 
eye is scanning. 

The straggling house, the narrow walks, the church 
spire heaven spanning ; 

The dogs and children run afront, their happy 
shouts they mingle. 

Until we pass the streets and stores, when all to- 
gether dwindle. 

Along the road the farmer drags with heavy load 

of clover, 
And now we crouch hard by a fence to pass a 

troubled drover ; 



I04 Before the Dawn 

A dusty team beclouds our way, and, swifter spurred, 

we pass it, 
And hurry on to scale the hill, and then go coasting 

down it. 

Our journey onward do we speed until the end is 

sighted. 
When, hale and well, we rest our charge, with every 

trouble slighted. 
We feel as gay and blithe as boys the schoolhouse 

yard regaining, 
All merry, cheerful, sound, and trim, without a 

sorrow paining. 



Halloween 105 



Halloween 

This is the night October dies, 

When snow-trailed clouds do flit the skies, 

And wintry blasts from poles are sent 

To circle earth in merriment. 

The air is charged with rigor and cold, 

To harden men and make them bold ; 

For October dies 

With gray-stained skies. 
And miserly Winter regains his hold. 

This is the night the ghouls revive, 
When ghosts and bodiless shadows connive 
For mischief and sport, for terror and glee, 
To revel and frolic, and prance merrily ; 
Hobgoblins and witches are out on a lark, 
As soon as the windows of daylight are dark. 

When October dies. 

The gray-stained skies 
Are urging the snowflakes for earth to embark. 

This is the night the old crones come. 

With harpies and sprites from their musty home. 

A yell and a cry, a whiz and a shriek, 

A clattering bone, or a maniac's freak — 



io6 Before the Dawn 

A noisy charge from this spirit band 
Will stir the owls from their sleepy stand, 

When October dies, 

With gray-stained skies, 
And crusty old Winter reconquers the land. 

This is the night " Old Nick" returns, 
From dusty tombs and unknown bourns. 
To haunt young men and pale them with fright, 
To summon up demons, entice them to fight, 
And bolden shy maidens to search for their mate, 
And read in the symbols their destined fate, — 

When October dies, 

And gray-stained skies 
Makes brusky old Winter the master in state. 



Rights of Man 

We are not crafts upon life's sea. 
That toss and struggle for the shore ; 

The stalwart waves, O man, are we, 
Whose dashing makes the ocean's roar. 



I Hear the Hymn of Twilight 107 



I Hear the Hymn of Twilight 

I HEAR the hymn of twilight, 

As day is sinking to rest, 
And I bow to the sweet emotion 

That rises and fills my breast. 

Upon the evening it is borne, 

The hymn of a dying day ; 
I listen, lost in the rapture 

That carries my soul away. 

I hear in the plaintive music 

The song of an untold love, 
The hymn of evening and twilight, 

And songs of the stars above : 

And a longing then seems to seize me, 

And hopes that do not speak 
Arise as the hymns of twilight 

On the shades of the darkness creep ; 

And only the stretches of silence 
Repeat what I hope and long ; 

But there is no balm for my yearning, 
Not even a hymn or a song. 



io8 Before the Dawn 

' TIs ended ; my longing has vanished, 
My hope for what never can be ; 

But I only know why twilight 
Makes such sweet music for me. 



Isolation 

Before me stretched the vacant night, 
Without a star in heaven' s dome ; 

Not e'en a single beacon glowed 

To guide the wandering traveler home. 

And then I turned to glance within, 
What light my ardent soul might cast ; 

But there the veil of night was drawn, 
And I was as the night at last. 



The Sowers 109 



The Sowers 

There is a sower who is God ; 

His seeds are strewn over earth ; 
Wherever beast or man have trod, 

They find the witness of their birth. 

There is a sower who is Life : 

His touch is found in every flower ; 

Whatever springtide maketh rife 
Has been obedient to his power. 

There is a sower who is Death, 

And all his plants have come to bloom ; 
What is of man, whatever has breath, 

Are garnered in his ageless tomb. 

We all are sowers for ourselves ; 

We plant our seeds in every deed : 
Some bud may sprout to noble bloom, 

Some spray may grow a pois'nous weed. 



no Before the Dawn 



Man and the Universe 

O OCEANS and oceans of vastness, 

And my soul in that vastness to roam ! 

And what am I, and my feeble sigh, 
As I stand here gazing alone ? 

O fields of silence and vastness, 

And soul that gazes alone ; 
Eternity's sweep, and the heaven's deep- 

Both soul and the seer are one. 



A Fragment 



Once a song rose in my breast, 
And its music pleased my ear ; 

When I sought to hold it fast, 
Forth it hastened as through fear. 



Songs 



All our songs are piercing sunbeams 
Prying through the walls of thought. 



Songs 



The Fisher 

Tell me what the fisher says 

When he leaves his home and wife, 
When her face with tears is dewed, 

As he parts for death or hfe. 
When the sea is wildly pleading 

For the traffic of his nets, 
Must she wait with patient heart. 

Finding comfort in her frets ? 

Tell me what the fisher says 

When he spreads his tanned sails, 
When he waves his sad farewell 

On the ocean's markless trails. 
On the shore the weeping wife 

Lifts her child as an adieu, 
And the hazy space bedims, 

Hides his dearest from his view. 

"3 



114 Before the Dawn 

Tell me what the fisher says 

When upon the sea he tarries, 
When his nets are dipped in brine 

For the treasure ocean carries. 
With his tears his bread is moistened, 

By his honest, humble toil, 
Trusting in a God above him, 

Not his task by death to foil. 

Tell me what the fisher says 

When his craft is homeward bounding, 
When the shore and home he hails, 

Hears his wife her greetings sounding, 
When he hears his children's voices, 

On his shoulder rests his wife : 
What a prayer the fisher utters ! 

Tell me how he blesses life. 



Come, Little Birdie 115 



Come, Little Birdie 

Come, little birdie, 
Sit by my window : 

I have not heard thee ; 
Tell me how things go. 

Be not affrighted 
By these gray walls ; 

Cheer is not blighted 
When welcome calls. 

Tell me in thy speech 
Thy cares and wishes, 

Where thy hopes reach — 
Their depth and riches. 

Then learn of mine, 
My world and life ; 

Perhaps we may twine 
One love and strife. 

Ah ! thou art flown. 

Where is the fear ? 
'Twill never be known 

We were so dear. 



1 1 6 Before the Dawn 



Farewell Song at Summer Brook 



When time draws nigh 

To say good-bye, 
No sigh or tear, 

But joy and cheer. 
We meet again ; 

Though older than 
The former time. 

We' re in our prime. 
No sadness check, 

No sorrow wreck 
Our mirth and cheer 

Throughout the year. 
All hail to you ! 

Farewell to you ! 
With welcome come, 

With blessings, home ! 



Song of Spring 1 1 7 



Song of Spring 

Hearken, listen to my song : 

From the sun-tipped boughs I sing ; 

Welcome me and wish me long ; 
Merry joys are on my wing. 

Hearken, listen to my notes : 
With the dawn I bring the day ; 

On the wind my music floats. 
Fluttering on my airy way. 

Hearken, listen to my song : 
Springtide follows on my trail ; 

Earth with flowers and birds will throng, 
Hushing winter's rasping wail. 

Hearken, listen to my tune : 
All the world is blithe and gay ; 

Only for me comes too soon 

Autumn with his clouds of gray. 



1 1 8 Before the Dawn 



Song of Autumn 

O HARK, O hear, ere autumn hushes 
My merry song of quickening spring ; 

The gray beclouded winter rushes, 

And death lurks on her hastening wing. 

O hark, O hear: my song's not saddened. 
One cheerful note ere drop the leaves ; 

Together we the hillsides gladdened 
When summer lent us her low breeze. 

O hark, O hear : I hail the sunlight, 
That gilds the trees with mellow gold. 

Caressing soft, ere autumn's slight 
Must all my mates in death enfold. 

O hark, O hear : I hush my sorrow ; 

I only know my death is near : 
O pray do not my sadness borrow. 

So hearken to my farewell cheer. 



Song of Winter 119 



Song of Winter 

Heigh-ho, the wind and rain, 
The icy blasts that sear the bone ! 

Alas ! thy cold has lesser pain 

Than love from lover's bosom flown. 

Heigh-ho, the snow and frost, 

The wintry winds that lowly moan ! 

Alas ! the stings of cold are lost 
Beside the man who weeps alone. 



Song of ^^Sangersehen" 

O WOULD you hearken to my word ? 

The flowers I would not ask to bloom, 
Or beg the music of a bird 

To drive away the mist and gloom : 
But my own speech would be the spell 

To hold you with me night and day ; 
In sunshine or when shadows fell, 

No charm would keep you, love, away. 



I20 Before the Dawn 



Good Night Song 

Good night ! good night ! 

Oh, one word more, and then good night ! 

To silence let us twain confide ; 
The last sweet rapture of the hour 

Must yonder secretly abide — 
Will rest in trust with every flower ; 

And only when the breezes sigh 

Will whispers say, "My dear, good-bye." 

Good night ! good night ! 

My love can only sigh, " Good night ! " 

O dear, this wish will beckon dreams 
From heaven's realm to guard your sleep: 

Along the pathway of yon beams, 
Unto your pillow will they creep, 

And lull you while their soothing spell 

Hum soft and low our sweet farewell. 



Coach Song 1 2 1 



Coach Song 

Heigh-ho, tallyho! 
Sound clearly forth the merry strain, 
Until the plains repeat again 

The first fresh sound. 
Blow loudly forth the cheerful notes. 
For on the breeze the welcome floats 

To all around. 
Up Dick, up Nipper, up Blossom, and Pete ! 
Up Garrish, up Dipper, up Ringer, and Fleet ! 
Across the grain-stacked plains we drive — 
The world is sweet when pleasures thrive, — 
Across the rolling prairies prance : 
The corn and wheat together dance 
To the music of our horn. 

Free cheer, far and near. 

When merrily we appear ! 

Heigh-ho, tallyho! 
Blow lustily the trumpet's call 
Before the hastening echoes fall 

On yonder plain. 
Sound loud, blow strong the happy tune 
Unless the greedy winds too soon 

Consume the strain. 



122 Before the Dawn 

Up Dick, up Nipper, up Blossom, and Pete ! 
Up Garrish, up Dipper, up Ringer, and Fleet 1 
Beneath the cover of night we ride ; 
The moonbeams follow by our side ; 
And to the blithesome winds we sing 
The joys of life, the cheer we bring 
To greet the dawn. 

Free cheer, far and near, 
When merrily we appear ! 



Where One Is, There Two Will Be 123 



Where One Is, There Two Will Be 



Where one is, there two will be : 
Come and join us ; make it three ! 
Pleasures never flourish single ; 
All her mates together mingle : 
Would you of all cares be free, 
Join our merry company. 

Where one is, there two will be : 
Call him, fellow ; make it three ! 
FroUc knows no caste or border. 
Frowns depressed on law and order ; 
When a man from toil is free, 
Friendship is his charity. 

Where one is, there two will be : 
Stir about for brother three ! 
When the cup is sipped alone. 
Chills and ague fill the bone ; 
When our cares their burdens flee. 
Then we wait on company. 



124 Before the Dawn 

Where one is, there two will be ; 
Hail, salute to number three ! 
Surly moods can only grow 
Where no merry spirits flow ; 
We are ripe for joy and glee — 
Well met, fellow ! join us three ! 



The Old Mill 125 



The Old Mill 

Down by the river bank 

Stands an old mill ; 
And it goes round and round, 

As the winds will, ' 
Swinging its mighty arms. 
As sailors telling yarns, 
With growling sound — 
Low, croaking sound. 

Out stretch the mighty arms, 
When the winds blow, 

As saints imploring 
Heaven to know. 

Are they adoring. 

Begging, deploring, 

When they go round 

With croaking sound ? 

Down to the mill 
Comes the mill's lad. 

Loaded with wheat and corn. 
White as his dad. 



126 Before the Dawn 

He pours in the grain, 
Sees it come out again, 
As it goes round 
With croaking sound. 

O go to the mill 

While it goes round ; 
It can grind you 

With the same sound — 
Grind you as fine as corn, 
Scanty as sheep are shorn, 
With the same sound — 
Low, croaking sound. 



The Night Wind 127 



The Night Wind 



I HEARD the night wind's lowly sigh, 
And o' er its soughing came the cry : 
' * Without thee, O my love will die. 
And leave me lone." 

And to the night wind's mystic moan 
I whispered softly, ' ' I am lone : 
O love, in spirit hast thou gone 
To some far zone ? ' ' 

Then answered low the wind to me, 
* ' Thyself must as thy own love be, 
To win throughout eternity 
Thy loved one. 



128 Before the Dawn 



Love Song 



Tell me why my heart is throbbing 
When thy name is on my Hps, 

Why my eyes their gaze is robbing, 
And my thought in fancy dips. 

Tell me why thy name may conjure 

Visions as a mystic spell, 
And its echoes feelings measure 

More than all my life befell. 

Tell me why its accents tarry. 
Make sweet music to my ear, 

Why all sounds and whispers carry 
But thy name for me to hear. 



Sonnets 



Where songs and ditties slight our grace, 
The courtly sonnet steps in place. 



Sonnets 



Sonnets of Despair 



Hath sorrow such a craven voice to cry 
Against the battered suffering of our clay, 
To summon from the depth of swart decay 

The broods that prouder manhood vihfy, 

When sweet contentment must with grief comply, 
And, raging, wake what peacefully reposed — 
The former sovereign of our bliss deposed. 

Whose reigning would the ranks of woe defy ? 

Since sorrow claims such magic for her voice. 
And, greedy tyrant, banishes from state 
The meeker subjects of her tristful reign. 

My soul must, alien, wander for a choice 
Of virtues that with suffering flesh will mate. 
And lodgment find where wallows filthy pain. 

131 



132 Before the Dawn 

II 

Since day or night, the constant guest of years, 
Will entertain no visitor of peace, 
Erasing from their bond and lifelong lease 

The signature that checks the flow of tears ; 

With sorrow reveling, when joy appears, 
And sapping youth, ere wistful mirth rebels, 
That youth' s thin stream in undue gushing quells 

From springs of time, lest age fall in arrears, — 

When thus the nimble game of life is played, 
And I must veil my youth and grief. 
With solitude consorted and alone — 

O fearful fate, that has this life assayed ! 
'Twere better that I wooed the end's relief. 
In death possessing what is not life's own. 



Ill 



When time, nor age, nor stone, nor senseless brass 

Will hold in trust the record of my woe ; 

When active decades build their towers, then go 
To rear a structure furtherward ; alas ! 
When such our life has thoughtless brought to pass 

That we succumb, by what we least attain ; 

What human art will mark our feverish pain, 
And single out what forlorn sinks in mass ? 



Sonnets of Despair 133 

Shall then my lips emit a seared lament, 
And wail against the life assigned I hold ? 

What rage of men will fate with patience bear, 
Or, lending ear, to no new plan consent ? 
Oh, grew man from such meditation bold, 
And never fell a victim to his fear ! 



IV 



O man is of such elements composed, 

As forms his fears, his sorrows, and lament, 
As embassies from distant regions sent, 

Where he for this odd journey is proposed. 

Then, were we of these agencies disposed. 
And even freed from sorrow's wasteful reign, 
Sufficed to live by what life failed to gain, 

The search would soon begin for that disposed. 

So leaps our life between the banks of want, 
Nor restful ever with her present store or show. 
We are but those same elements we mourn. 

And crave the way wherewith that way to flaunt : 
What stretches past the self we never know. 
For darkness is the night, and light the morn. 



134 Before the Dawn 

V 

If thus with such inconstancy we range 
Our Hfe, that sadness treads upon the heel 
Of joy, and terrors with Hke motions reel 
As whirl our merriments, — if so we change 
The scenes of life that sorrows rearrange 

The flowery spray of joy, with garlands crowning 
What grief dispels in thick and clouded frowning, 
'Tis then, indeed, life's spectacle grows strange. 
That we are healed by what we most despise. 
So acts the little drama of our life ; 

Our soul's the stage, our whims the characters ; 
They follow each ere e' en the curtains rise ; 
And who bewildered, that no greater strife 
With life, the hero role, then interferes ? 



VI 



Some day, alas ! my steps will slip from earth, 

And silence gather on my time-worn cot ; 

In soil unpitying, my unexchanging lot, 
Compounded with the clay of primal birth. 
Oh, there to hear no more the taunting mirth, 

The scorn and sneer that drives my joy away ; 

No mimicries that mask sincerer play — 
A few stray sands repaid to ancient turf, 



Sonnets of Despair 135 

And one more spirit, tortured in the rack, 
Returned to wither in the blastless sphere ; 
One heart, too ardent to bestow the Hght, 
As prey pursued and chased, on scent and track, 
Until both famished panting, he drew near 
The shady realm and merged in endless night. 



VII 



Ofttimes, when I reflect on my estate, 

My life- engendered hopes, the saving trust 
That all my yearnings may not end in dust, 
The confidence that trickery of fate 
No wish will pass from out its postern gate 
Unburdened with the trophy of its toil. 
Ungrateful to its native rearing soil. 
My gloated longings weaken in the state 
Of hoping, such admixtures of the self 
Do reign that we make blankly obsolete 
Our sense of brotherhood, and freely feed 
Our vanity and self-conceit on pelf 

For visions of our greatness. 'Tis meet 

To hope, when man to higher hopes will lead. 



136 Before the Dawn 

VIII 

When I unfold the sacred scroll of years, 
And read the script, unblessed by aught 
Save those few hours that stoutly fought 
To gain in greedy clutch the next, my fears 
Combat with hostile mien those gracious tears 
That would contentment spread on my distress. 
Great God ! that youthful hope must thus confess, 
Ere youth matures or weakening age appears : 
And all those dreams, the pride and vaunt of heart, 
The secret joys of conquest, and the gain 
Of private effort, growing great by use. 
Must now, the uninvited guests, depart ; 
And life itself, a phantom, all in vain. 
Go dwell in air, or into space diffuse ! 



Resignation 137 



Resignation 



Thou art a spirit borne from shades of night, 
Thou voice of death, and warder of the soul ! 
My life transfers its reigns to thy control, 

In meek submission to thy towering might : 

A wistful child scans not the lofty height 

Of young ambition's peak, nor does dream's dome 
Exclude the dreamy hopes that starward come 

To jut on earth a ray of silver light. 

With man comes revelation of his plot ; 
And sadly hope casts off its vast expanse 
In every little life : beyond we reach, 

To find our efforts lessen ; we allot 

Our eyes a treasured, full, and longing glance. 
And for that gaze a comforter beseech. 



138 Before the Dawn 



Doctor E. G. Hirsch's Forty- 
seventh Birthday 

As ages rear the structure of our earth, 

Each age succeeding in its strength the last, 
Until the globe is welded, rounded fast. 
And rendered tenantable, fit, and worth 
Both man and beast, so are the years that girth 
Thy life ; a fuller store each age acquires ; 
But wisdom, manhood, soul-expanse, aspires 
To gender newer qualities and birth 
For unexhausted youth. And we who dwell 
In wrapt adornment of the soul, whose voice 
Enkindles reverence for God and man, 
We bring our greetings in this joyous spell. 
That time may spare and leave a choice 
For riper days to arch the fuller span. 



On Reading a Book of Sonnets 139 



On Reading a Book of Sonnets 

When, from the chastened pen of a young sonneteer, 
I read a tuneful, soft Sicilian strain, 
Harmonious as citron winds that gain 

Their music from the shaded groves, or wear 

The echoes of elm or beech or pear 

When their young leaves sigh low a tale of love, 
I thought the world as cheerful as above 

The sun, and felt my footsteps swiftly near 

The fragrant woodland haunts of old Theocritus, 
Dismissed from all the cares and wearing weight 
Of life, exempt from drossy strife for gold, 

Transported to a realm of spring, and thus 

Await the unknown end, not mindful of the fate 
Of what the state may bring or men withhold. 



I40 Before the Dawn 



Before New Year 

When, musing, into unformed years I peer, 
And read on some assumed page of time 
The certain hour of death, and from what clime 
I must embark, there is no sickly fear, 
Nor ghastly vision, that, unsought, I rear 
For venturing fancifully to the verge 
Of that abyss, where shadows freely merge 
From life and death. But braver does appear 
The task to view the common planes of life, 
And see, along the even stretch of time, 

Both ambling youth and manhood, joy and pain, 
And find each period doubly latent, strife 

With peace — each mingling easy as a rhyme. 
To beauty growing as the end we gain. 



Authorship 141 



Authorship 



When, struggling with the gloated pangs of woe, 
My heart fain yearns for balms of sweet relief, 
And bitter sorrow, fanning flames of grief 

In spite, enrages my contentment's foe. 

Disdainful melancholy, in the throe 

Of deepest anguish, pain, and dire despair, 
In languishment of life, I woo the fair 

And tender muse of poesy. I know 

The ills that rankle in my breast, the strains 
That sigh to weave their pining with the air. 
Were voice entrusted to those pains to speak ; 

And as a child its mother's kiss regains, 
Finds happiness amid its aimless care. 
Expression wins for me the joy I seek. 



142 Before the Dawn 



When Fancy Decays 

How soon our fancies totter to decay, 
And overspread the dust of dotage 
On visions of a more ambitious age ! 
When youthful aspiration creeps away 
And whispers to the eve the hopes of day, 
When childhood shadows forth a greater man 
Than manhood in his present image can, 
Maturity, confounded by delay, 
Suspects the ministering guards of death 
Approach, ere dreams of life are spun. 
Such agencies has time devised to mock 
Our mortal sovereignty, and seals our breath, 
Ere in appointed tracks our sands have run ; 
Then draws us in death's unaccounted flock. 



Obedience 143 



Obedience 



Dedicated to Miss Prestonia Mann, 



Ah ! once a wild and unbound spirit stirred 
Tempestuous storms within, at meek control, 
When kings, enstated in a tyrant's role, 

Oppression on a helpless horde conferred, 

And men, too pained to speak, in vain demurred 
Against the rights embosomed in their hearts, 
Made common traffic in the bartering marts 

Of empires. Now a calmer cause is heard ; 

And my betroubled spirit learns anew 
The higher law of sweet obedience, 

Of rulership controlled by human love ; 

And man, not slave, where iron in bondage drew, 
But led by holier acts of reverence, 

Obedient to thy will, which love doth move. 



144 Before the Dawn 



Winter 

I KNOW not why such silence should ensue 
When winter spreads his mantle o' er the land, 
Or why the cheery, gleeful, chanting band 

Their happy minstrel strains withdrew, 

Or why the heart such sadness should imbue. 
Yet brusky winter's kind, and in his wail 
A tone of comfort and content does trail — 

To cherish home and kinsman's love renew. 

Thus inwardly the clime confines our gaze 
With searching eye, and thaws our icy soul ; 
With warmer love we draw each to our heart. 

In contemplation of our home, the days 

Do glide ; our best we bring to sweet control, 
And learn how vastly each in each is part. 



Life's Vintage 145 



Life's Vintage 

We gathered once the autumn leaves, 
And golden wreaths together strung, 

Regardless of the fleeing hours, 
For we were young ; 

But now we gather leaves of life, 
And very few our garlands hold — 

The golden autumn days have fled. 
And we are old. 



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